t  *Skfr ■■?  \vrtm 


S 


(i rQi  Ji  AJYh  iiMvr«iir>'_ 


UNIV.'RS 
CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DltGO 

V J 


P/V 


v./ 


" 


WAVERLEY     NOVELS. 


HOUSEHOLD     EDITION. 


I.e. 


i  ~>fr 


ST.    HON  AN 'S    WELL. 


B  O  STON: 
TICKNOR     AND     FIELDS 

M  DCCC  LVIII. 


RIVERSIDE,     CAMBRIDGE : 

STEREOTYPED      AND      PRINTED      BY 

H.    0.    HOOGHTON   AND   COMPANY. 


ST.     RONAN'S     WELL. 


ST.    RONAN'S    WELL. 


A  merry  place,  'tis  said,  in  days  of  yore; 

But  something  ails  it  now — the  place  is  cursed. 

Wordsworth. 


INTRODUCTION — (1832.) 

The  novel  which  follows  is  upon  a  plan  different  from 
any  other  that  the  author  has  ever  written,  although  it  is 
perhaps  the  most  legitimate  which  relates  to  this  kind  of 
light  literature. 

It  is  intended,  in  a  word — celebrare  domestica  facta — 
to  give  an  imitation  of  the  shifting  manners  of  our  own 
time,  and  paint  scenes,  the  originals  of  which  are  daily 
passing  round  us,  so  that  a  minute's  observation  may 
compare  the  copies  with  the  originals.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  this  style  of  composition  was  adopted  by  the 
author  rather  from  the  tempting  circumstance  of  its  offer- 
ing some  novelty  in  his  compositions,  and  avoiding  worn- 
out  characters  and  positions,  than  from  the  hope  of 
rivalling  the  many  formidable  competitors  who  have 
already  won  deserved  honours  in  this  department.  The 
ladies,  in  particular,  gifted  by  nature  with  keen  powers 
of  observation  and  light  satire,  have  been  so  distinguished 


G  WAYERLEY   NOVELS. 

by  these  works  of  talent,  that,  reckoning  from  the  author- 
ess of  Evelina  to  her  of  Marriage,  a  catalogue  might  be 
made,  including  the  brilliant  and  talented  names  of  Edge- 
worth,  Austin,  Charlotte  Smith,  and  others,  whose  success 
seems  to  have  appropriated  this  province  of  the  novel  as 
exclusively  their  own.  It  was  therefore  with  a  sense  of 
temerity  that  the  author  intruded  upon  a  species  of  com- 
position which  had  been  of  late  practised  with  such 
distinguished  success.  This  consciousness  was  lost,  how- 
ever, under  the  necessity  of  seeking  for  novelty,  without 
which  it  was  much  to  be  apprehended,  such  repeated 
incursions  on  his  part  would  nauseate  the  long  indulgent 
public  at  the  last. 

The  scene  chosen  for  the  author's  little  drama  of  mod- 
ern life  was  a  mineral  spring,  such  as  are  to  be  found  in 
both  divisions  of  Britain,  and  which  are  supplied  with 
the  usual  materials  for  redeeming  health,  or  driving 
away  care.  The  invalid  often  finds  relief  from  his  com- 
plaints, less  from  the  healing  virtues  of  the  Spaw  itself, 
than  because  his  system  of  ordinary  life  undergoes  an 
entire  change,  in  his  being  removed  from  his  ledger  and 
account-books — from  his  legal  folios  and  progresses  of 
title-deeds — from  his  counters  and  shelves — from  what- 
ever else  forms  the  main  source  of  his  constant  anxiety 
at  home,  destroys  his  appetite,  mars  the  custom  of  his 
exercise,  deranges  the  digestive  powers,  and  clogs  up 
the  springs  of  life.  Thither,  too,  comes  the  saunterer, 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  that  wearisome  attendant  himself; 
and  thither  come  both  males  and  females,  who,  upon  a 
different  principle,  desire  to  make  themselves  double. 

The  society  of  such  places  is  regulated,  by  their  very 
nature,  upon  a  scheme  much  more  indulgent  than  that 
which  rules  the  world  of  fashion,  and  the  narrow  circles 


INTRODUCTION    TO    ST.    KONAN  S    WELL.  7 

of  rank  in  the  metropolis.  The  titles  of  rank,  birth,  and 
fortune,  are  received  at  a  watering-place  without  any 
very  strict  investigation,  as  adequate  to  the  purpose  for 
which  they  are  preferred ;  and  as  the  situation  infers  a 
certain  degree  of  intimacy  and  sociability  for  the  time,  so 
to  whatever  heights  it  may  have  been  carried,  it  is  not 
understood  to  imply  any  duration  beyond  the  length  of 
the  season.  No  intimacy  can  be  supposed  more  close  for 
the  time,  and  more  transitory  in  its  endurance,  than  that 
which  is  attached  to  a  watering-place  acquaintance.  The 
novelist,  therefore,  who  fixes  upon  such  a  scene  for  his 
tale,  endeavours  to  display  a  species  of  society,  where 
the  strongest  contrast  of  humorous  characters  and  man- 
ners  may  be  brought  to  bear  on  and  illustrate  each  other 
with  less  violation  of  probability,  than  could  be  supposed 
to  attend  the  same  miscellaneous  assemblage  in  any  other 
situation. 

In  such  scenes,  too,  are  frequently  mingled  characters, 
not  merely  ridiculous,  but  dangerous  and  hateful.  The 
unprincipled  gamester,  the  heartless  fortune-hunter,  all 
those  who  eke  out  their  means  of  subsistence  by  pander- 
ing to  the  vices  and  follies  of  the  rich  and  gay — who 
drive,  by  their  various  arts,  foibles  into  crimes,  and  im- 
prudence into  acts  of  ruinous  madness,  are  to  be  found 
where  their  victims  naturally  resort,  with  the  same  cer- 
tainty that  eagles  are  gathered  together  at  the  place  of 
slaughter.  By  this  the  author  takes  a  great  advantage 
for  the  management  of  his  story,  particularly  in  its  darker 
and  more  melancholy  passages.  The  impostor,  the  gam- 
bler, all  who  live  loose  upon  the  skirts  of  society,  or, 
like  vermin,  thrive  by  its  corruptions,  are  to  be  found  at 
such  retreats,  when  they  easily,  and  as  a  matter  of 
course,  mingle  with  these  dupes,  who  might  otherwise 


8  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

have  escaped  their  snares.  But  besides  those  characters 
who  are  actually  dangerous  to  society,  a  well-frequented 
watering-place  generally  exhibits  for  the  amusement  of 
the  company,  and  the  perplexity  and  amazement  of  the 
more  inexperienced,  a  sprinkling  of  persons  called  by 
the  newspapers  eccentric  characters — individuals,  namely, 
who,  either  from  some  real  derangement  of  their  under- 
standing, or,  much  more  frequently,  from  an  excess  of 
vanity,  are  ambitious  of  distinguishing  themselves  by 
some  striking  peculiarity  in  dress  or  address,  conversa- 
tion or  manners,  and  perhaps  in  all.  These  affectations 
are  usually  adopted,  like  Drawcansir's  extravagances,  to 
show  they  dare,  and,  I  must  needs  say,  those  who  profess 
them  are  more  frequently  to  be  found  among  the  English, 
than  among  the  natives  of  either  of  the  other  two  divis- 
ions of  the  united  kingdoms.  The  reason  probably  is,' 
that  the  consciousness  of  wealth,  and  a  sturdy  feeling  of 
independence,  which  generally  pervade  the  English  na- 
tion, are,  in  a  few  individuals,  perverted  into  absurdity, 
or  at  least  peculiarity.  The  witty  Irishman,  on  the  con- 
trary, adapts  his  general  behaviour  to  that  of  the  best 
society,  or  that  which  he  thinks  such  ;  nor  is  it  any  part 
of  the  shrewd  Scot's  national  character  unnecessarily  to 
draw  upon  himself  public  attention.  These  rules,  how- 
ever, are  not  without  their  exceptions  ;  for  we  find  men 
of  every  country  playing  the  eccentric  at  these  independ- 
ent resorts  of  the  gay  and  the  wealthy,  where  every  one 
enjoys  the  license  of  doing  what  is  good  in  his  own  eyes. 
It  scarce  needed  these  obvious  remarks  to  justify  a 
novelist's  choice  of  a  watering-place  as  the  scene  of 
a  fictitious  narrative.  Unquestionably  it  affords  every 
variety  of  character,  mixed  together  in  a  manner  which 
cannot,  without  a  breach  of  probability,  be  supposed  to 


INTRODUCTION    TO    ST.    RONAN'S    WELL.  9 

exist  elsewhere ;  neither  can  it  be  denied,  that  in  the 
concourse  which  such  miscellaneous  collections  of  persons 
afford,  events  extremely  different  from  those  of  the  quiet 
routine  of  ordinary  life  may,  and  often  do,  take  place. 

It  is  not,  however,  sufficient  that  a  mine  be  in  itself 
rich  and  easily  accessible ;  it  is  necessary  that  the  engi- 
neer who  explores  it  should  himself,  in  mining  phrase, 
have  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  country,  and  possess 
the  skill  necessary  to  work  it  to  advantage.  In  this  re- 
spect, the  author  of  St.  Ronan's  Well  could  not  be 
termed  fortunate.  His  habits  of  life  had  not  led  him 
much,  of  late  years  at  least,  into  its  general  or  bustling 
scenes,  nor  had  he  mingled  often  in  the  society  which 
enables  the  observer  to  "  shoot  folly  as  it  flies."  The 
consequence  perhaps  was,  that  the  characters  wanted  that 
force  and  precision  which  can  only  be  given  by  a  writer 
who  is  familiarly  acquainted  with  his  subject.  The  au- 
thor, however,  had  the  satisfaction  to  chronicle  his  testi- 
mony against  the  practice  of  gambling,  a  vice  which  the 
devil  has  contrived  to  render  all  his  own,  since  it  is  de- 
prived of  whatever  pleads  an  apology  for  other  vices,  and 
is  founded  entirely  on  the  cold-blooded  calculation  of  the 
most  exclusive  selfishness.  The  character  of  the  travel- 
ler, meddling,  self-important,  and  what  the  ladies  call 
fussing,  but  yet  generous  and  benevolent  in  his  purposes, 
was  partly  taken  from  nature.  The  story,  being  entirely 
modern,  cannot  require  much  explanation,  after  what  has 
been  here  given,  either  in  the  shape  of  notes,  or  a  more 
prolix  introduction. 

It  may  be  remarked,  that  the  English  critics,  in  many 
instances,  though  none  of  great  influence,  pursued  St. 
Ronan's  Well  with  hue  and  cry,  many  of  the  fraternity 
giving  it  as  their  opinion  that  the  author  had  exhausted 


10  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

himself,  or,  as  the  technical  phrase  expi'essed  it,  written 
himself  out ;  and  as  an  unusual  tract  of  success  too  often 
provokes  many  persons  to  mark  and  exaggerate  a  slip 
when  it  does  occur,  the  author  was  publicly  accused,  in 
prose  and  verse,  of  having  committed  a  literary  suicide  in 
this  unhappy  attempt.  The  voices,  therefore,  were,  for 
a  time,  against  St.  Ronan's  on  the  Southern  side  of  the 
Tweed. 

In  the  author's  country,  it  was  otherwise.  Many  of 
the  characters  were  recognised  as  genuine  Scottish  por- 
traits, and  the  good  fortune  which  had  hitherto  attended 
the  productions  of  the  Author  of  Waverley,  did  not 
desert,  notwithstanding  the  ominous  vaticinations  of  its 
censurers,  this  new  attempt,  although  out  of  his  ordinary 
style. 

Abbotsfokd,  1st  February,  1832. 


ST.    RONAN'S   WELL. 


CHAPTER  I. 


AN    OLD-WORLD    LANDLADY. 


But  to  make  up  my  tale, 
She  breweth  good  ale, 
And  thereof  maketh  sale. 

Skelton. 


Although  few,  if  any,  of  the  countries  of  Europe 
have  increased  so  rapidly  in  wealth  and  cultivation  as 
Scotland  during  the  last  half  century,  Sultan  Mahmoud's 


12  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

owls  might  nevertheless  have  found  in  Caledonia,  at  any 
term  within  that  flourishing  period,  their  dowery  of 
ruined  villages.  Accident  or  local  advantages  have,  in 
many  instances,  transferred  the  inhabitants  of  ancient 
hamlets,  from  the  situations  which  their  predecessors 
chose,  with  more  respect  to  security  than  convenience, 
to  those  in  which  their  increasing  industry  and  commerce 
could  more  easily  expand  itself;  and  hence  places  which 
stand  distinguished  in  Scottish  history,  and  which  figure 
in  David  M'Pherson's  excellent  historical  map,  can  now 
only  be  discerned  from  the  wild  moor  by  the  verdure 
which  clothes  their  site,  or,  at  best,  by  a  few  scattered 
ruins,  resembling  pinfolds,  which  mark  the  spot  of  their 
former  existence. 

The  little  village  of  St.  Ronan's,  though  it  had  not  yet 
fallen  into  the  state  of  entire  oblivion  we  have  described, 
was,  about  twenty  years  since,  fast  verging  towards  it. 
The  situation  had  something  in  it  so  romantic,  that  it 
provoked  the  pencil  of  every  passing  tourist ;  and  we  will 
endeavour,  therefore,  to  describe  it  in  language  which 
can  scarcely  be  less  intelligible  than  some  of  their 
sketches,  avoiding,  however,  for  reasons  which  seem  to 
us  of  weight,  to  give  any  more  exact  indication  of  the 
site,  than  that  it  is  on  the  southern  side  of  the  Forth,  and 
not  above  thirty  miles  distant  from  the  English  frontier. 

A  river  of  considerable  magnitude  pours  its  streams 
through  a  narrow  vale,  varying  in  breadth  from  two 
miles  to  a  fourth  of  that  distance,  and  which,  being  com- 
posed of  rich  alluvial  soil,  is,  and  has  long  been,  enclosed, 
tolerably  well  inhabited,  and  cultivated  with  all  the  skill 
of  Scottish  agriculture.  Either  side  of  this  valley  is 
bounded  by  a  chain  of  hills,  which,  on  the  right  in  par- 
ticular, may  be  almost  termed  mountains.     Little  brooks 


ST.  ronan's  well.  13 

arising  in  these  ridges,  and  finding  their  way  to  the  river, 
offer  each  its  own  little  vale  to  the  industry  of  the  culti- 
vator. Some  of  them  bear  fine  large  trees,  which  have 
as  yet  escaped  the  axe,  and  upon  the  sides  of  most  there 
are  scattered  patches  and  fringes  of  natural  copsewood, 
above  and  around  which  the  banks  of  the  stream  arise, 
somewhat  desolate  in  the  colder  months,  but  in  summer 
glowing  with  dark  purple  heath,  or  with  the  golden 
lustre  of  the  broom  and  gorse.  This  is  a  sort  of  scenery 
peculiar  to  those  countries,  which  abound,  like  Scotland, 
in  hills  and  in  streams,  and  where  the  ti'aveller  is  ever 
and  anon  discovering,  in  some  intricate  and  unexpected 
recess,  a  simple  and  silvan  beauty,  which  pleases  him  the 
more,  that  it  seems  to  be  peculiarly  his  own  property  as 
the  first  discoverer. 

In  one  of  these  recesses,  and  so  near  its  opening  as  to 
command  the  prospect  of  the  river,  the  broader  valley, 
and  the  opposite  chain  of  hills,  stood,  and,  unless  neglect 
and  desertion  have  completed  their  work,  still  stands,  the 
ancient  and  decayed  village  of  St.  Ronan's.  The  site 
was  singularly  picturesque,  as  the  straggling  street  of  the 
village  ran  up  a  very  steep  hill,  on  the  side  of  which 
were  clustered,  as  it  were  upon  little  terraces,  the  cot- 
tages which  composed  the  place,  seeming,  as  in  the  Swiss 
towns  on  the  Alps,  to  rise  above  each  other  towards  the 
ruins  of  an  old  castle,  which  continued  to  occupy  the 
crest  of  the  eminence,  and  the  strength  of  which  had 
doubtless  led  the  neighbourhood  to  assemble  under  its 
walls  for  protection.  It  must,  indeed,  have  been  a  place 
of  formidable  defence,  for  on  the  side  opposite  to  the 
town,  its  walls  rose  straight  up  from  the  verge  of  a  tre- 
mendous and  rocky  precipice,  whose  base  was  washed  by 
St.  Ronan's  Burn,  as  the  brook  was  entitled.     On  the 


14  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

southern  side,  where  the  declivity  was  less  precipitous, 
the  ground  had  been  carefully  levelled  into  successive 
terraces,  which  ascended  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  and 
were,  or  rather  had  been,  connected  by  staircases  of 
stone,  rudely  ornamented.  In  peaceful  periods  these 
terraces  had  been  occupied  by  the  gardens  of  the  Castle, 
and  in  times  of  siege  they  added  to  its  security,  for  each 
commanded  the  one  immediately  below  it,  so  that  they 
could  be  separately  and  successively  defended,  and  all 
were  exposed  to  the  fire  from  the  place  itself — a  massive 
square  tower  of  the  largest  size,  surrounded,  as  usual,  by 
lower  buildings,  and  a  high  embattled  wall.  On  the 
northern  side  arose  a  considerable  mountain,  of  which  the 
descent  that  lay  between  the  eminence  on  which  the 
Castle  was  situated  seemed  a  detached  portion,  and 
which  had  been  improved  and  deepened  by  three  succes- 
sive huge  trenches.  Another  very  deep  trench  was 
drawn  in  front  of  the  main  entrance  from  the  east,  where 
the  principal  gateway  formed  the  termination  of  the 
street,  which,  as  we  have  noticed,  ascended  from  the 
village,  and  this  last  defence  completed  the  fortifications 
of  the  tower. 

In  the  ancient  gardens  of  the  Castle,  and  upon  all 
sides  of  it  excepting  the  western,  which  was  precipitous, 
large  old  trees  had  found  root,  mantling  the  rock  and  the 
ancient  and  ruinous  walls  with  their  dusky  verdure,  and 
increasing  the  effect  of  the  shattered  pile  which  towered 
up  from  the  centre. 

Seated  on  the  threshold  of  this  ancient  pile,  where  the 
"  proud  porter  "  had  in  former  days  "  rear'd  himself,"  * 
a  stranger  had  a  complete  and  commanding  view  of  the 
decayed  village,  the  houses  of  which,  to  a  fanciful  im- 

*  See  the  old  ballad  of  King  Estniere,  in  Percy's  Reliques. 


ST.    RONAN'S    "WELL.  15 

agination,  might  seem  as  if  they  had  been  suddenly  ar- 
rested in  hurrying  down  the  precipitous  hill,  and  fixed  as 
if  by  magic  in  the  whimsical  arrangement  which  they 
now  presented.  It  was  like  a  sudden  pause  in  one  of 
Amphion's  country-dances,  when  the  huts  which  were  to 
form  the  future  Thebes  were  jigging  it  to  his  lute.  But, 
with  such  an  observer,  the  melancholy  excited  by  the 
desolate  appearance  of  the  village  soon  overcame  all  the 
lighter  frolics  of  the  imagination.  Originally  constructed 
on  the  humble  plan  used  in  the  building  of  Scotch  cot- 
tages about  a  century  ago,  the  greater  part  of  them  had 
been  long  deserted  ;  and  their  fallen  roofs,  blackened 
gables,  and  ruinous  walls,  showed  Desolation's  triumph 
over  Poverty.  On  some  huts  the  rafters,  varnished  with 
spot,  were  still  standing,  in  whole  or  in  part,  like  skele- 
tons, and  a  few,  wholly  or  partially  covered  with  thatch, 
seemed  still  inhabited,  though  scarce  habitable  ;  for  the 
smoke  of  the  peat-fires,  which  prepared  the  humble  meal 
of  the  indwellers,  stole  upwards,  not  only  from  the  chim- 
neys, its  regular  vent,  but  from  various  other  crevices  in 
the  roofs.  Nature,  in  the  meanwhile,  always  changing, 
but  renewing  as  she  changes,  was  supplying,  by  the 
power  of  vegetation,  the  fallen  and  decaying  marks  of 
human  labour.  Small  pollards,  which  had  been  formerly 
planted  around  the  little  gardens,  had  now  waxed  into 
huge  and  high  forest-trees ;  the  fruit-trees  had  extended 
their  branches  over  the  verges  of  the  little  yards,  and 
the  hedges  had  shot  up  into  huge  and  irregular  bushes ; 
while  quantities  of  dock,  and  nettles,  and  hemlock,  hid- 
ing the  ruined  walls,  were  busily  converting  the  whole 
scene  of  desolation  into  a  picturesque  forest  bank. 

Two  houses  in  St.  Ronan's  were  still  in  something  like 
decent  repair ;  places  essential — the  one  to  the  spiritual 


16  WAVEULEY   NOVELS. 

weal  of  the  inhabitants,  the  other  to  the  accommodation 
of  travellers.  These  were  the  clergyman's  manse,  and 
the  village  inn.  Of  the  former  we  need  only  say  that  it 
formed  no  exception  to  the  general  rule  by  which  the 
landed  proprietors  of  Scotland  seem  to  proceed  in  lodg- 
ing their  clergy,  not  only  in  the  cheapest,  but  in  the  ugli- 
est and  most  inconvenient  house  which  the  genius  of 
masonry  can  contrive.  It  had  the  usual  number  of  chim- 
neys— two,  namely — rising  like  asses'  ears  at  either  end, 
which  answer  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  designed 
as  ill  as  usual.  It  had  all  the  ordinary  leaks  and  inlets 
to  the  fury  of  the  elements,  which  usually  form  the  sub- 
ject of  the  complaints  of  a  Scottish  incumbent  to  his 
brethren  of  the  Presbytery ;  and,  to  complete  the  picture, 
the  clergyman  being  a  bachelor,  the  pigs  had  unmolested 
admission  to  the  garden  and  court-yard,  broken  windows 
were  repaired  with  brown  paper,  and  the  disordered  and 
squalid  appearance  of  a  low  farm-house,  occupied  by  a 
bankrupt  tenant,  dishonoured  the  dwelling  of  one,  who, 
besides  his  clerical  character,  was  a  scholar  and  a  gentle- 
man, though  a  little  of  a  humorist. 

Beside  the  manse  stood  the  kirk  of  St.  Ronan's,  a 
little  old  mansion  with  a  clay  floor,  and  an  assemblage 
of  wretched  pews,  originally  of  carved  oak,  but  heedfully 
clouted  with  white  fir-deal.  But  the  external  form  of  the 
church  was  elegant  in  the  outline,  having  been  built  in 
Catholic  times,  when  we  cannot  deny  to  the  forms  of 
ecclesiastical  architecture  that  grace,  which,  as  good  Pro- 
testants, we  refuse  to  their  doctrine.  The  fabric  hardly 
raised  its  gray  and  vaulted  roof  among  the  crumbling 
hills  of  mortality  by  which  it  was  surrounded,  and  was 
indeed  so  small  in  size,  and  so  much  lowered  in  height 
by  the  graves  on  the  outside,  which  ascended  half-way 


ST.    KONAX'S    WELL.  17 

up  the  low  Saxon  windows,  that  it  might  itself  have  ap- 
peared only  a  funeral  vault,  or  mausoleum  of  larger  size. 
Its  little  square  tower,  with  the  ancient  belfry,  alone  dis- 
tinguished it  from  such  a  monument.  But  when  the 
gray-headed  beadle  turned  the  keys  with  his  shaking 
hand,  the  antiquary  was  admitted  into  an  ancient  build- 
ing, which,  from  the  style  of  its  architecture,  and  some 
monuments  of  the  Mowbrays  of  St.  Ronan's,  which  the 
old  man  was  accustomed  to  point  out,  was  generally  con- 
jectured to  be  as  early  as  the  thirteenth  century. 

These  Mowbrays  of  St.  Ronan's  seem  to  have  been  at 
one  time  a  very  powerful  family.  They  were  allied  to, 
and  friends  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  at  the  time  when 
the  overgrown  power  of  that  heroic  race  made  the  Stew- 
arts tremble  on  the  Scottish  throne.  It  followed  that, 
when,  as  our  old  naif  historian  expresses  it,  "  no  one 
dared  to  strive  with  a  Douglas,  nor  yet  with  a  Douglas's 
man,  for  if  he  did,  he  was  sure  to  come  by  the  waur,"  the 
family  of  St.  Ronan's  shared  their  prosperity,  and  became 
lords  of  almost  the  whole  of  the  rich  valley  of  which 
their  mansion  commanded  the  prospect.  But  upon  the 
turning  of  the  tide,  in  the  reign  of  James  II.,  they 
became  despoiled  of  the  greater  part  of  those  fair  acqui- 
sitions, and  succeeding  events  reduced  their  importance 
still  farther.  Nevertheless,  they  were,  in  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  still  a  family  of  considerable 
note ;  and  Sir  Reginald  Mowbray,  after  the  unhappy 
battle  of  Dunbar,  distinguished  himself  by  the  obstinate 
defence  of  the  Castle  against  the  arms  of  Cromwell,  who, 
incensed  at  the  opposition  which  he  had  unexpectedly  en- 
countered in  an  obscure  corner,  caused  the  fortress  to  be 
dismantled  and  blown  up  with  gunpowder. 

After  this   catastrophe,  the  old  Castle  was  abandoned 
vol.  xxxm.  2 


18  AYAVERLE*    NOVELS. 

to  ruin  ;  but  Sir  Reginald,  when,  like  Allan  Ramsay's 
Sir  William  Worthy,  he  returned  after  the  Revolution, 
built  himself  a  house  in  the  fashion  of  that  later  age, 
which  ho  prudently  suited  in  size  to  the  diminished  for- 
tunes of  his  family.  It  was  situated  about  the  middle  of 
the  village,  whose  vicinity  was  not  in  those  days  judged 
any  inconvenience,  upon  a  spot  of  ground  more  level 
than  was  presented  by  the  rest  of  the  acclivity,  where, 
as  we  said  before,  the  houses  were  notched  as  it  were 
into  the  side  of  the  steep  bank,  with  little  more  level 
ground  about  them  than  the  spot  occupied  by  their 
site.  But  the  Laird's  house  had  a  court  in  front  and  a 
small  garden  behind,  connected  with  another  garden, 
which,  occupying  three  terraces,  descended,  in  emulation 
of  the  orchards  of  the  old  Castle,  almost  to  the  banks  of 
the  stream. 

The  family  continued  to  inhabit  this  new  messuage 
until  about  fifty  years  before  the  commencement  of  our 
history,  when  it  was  much  damaged  by  a  casual  fire ; 
and  the  Laird  of  the  day,  having  just  succeeded  to  a 
more  pleasant  and  commodious  dwelling  at  the  distance 
of  about  three  miles  from  the  village,  determined  to 
abandon  the  habitation  of  his  ancestors.  As  he  cut  down 
at  the  same  time  an  ancient  rookery,  (perhaps  to  defray 
the  expenses  of  the  migration.)  it  became  a  common 
remark  among  the  country  folk,  that  the  decay  of  St. 
Ronan's  began  when  Laird  Lawrence  and  the  crows  flew 
off. 

The  deserted  mansion,  however,  was  not  consigned  to 
owls  and  birds  of  the  desert ;  on  the  contrary,  for  many 
years  it  witnessed  more  fun  and  festivity  than  when  it 
had  been  the  sombre  abode  of  a  grave  Scottish  Baron  of 
"  auld  lang  syne."     In   short,  it  was  converted  into  an 


ST.    ROWAN'S    "WELL.  19 

inn,  and  marked  by  a  huge  sign,  representing  on  the  one 
side  St.  Ronan  catching  hold  of  the  devil's  game-leg  with 
his  Episcopal  crook,  as  the  story  may  be  read  in  his 
veracious  legend,  and  on  the  other  the  Mowbray  arms. 
It  was  by  far  the  best  frequented  public-house  in  that 
vicinity ;  and  a  thousand  stories  were  told  of  the  revels 
which  had  been  held  within  its  walls,  and  the  gambols 
achieved  under  the  influence  of  its  liquors.  All  this, 
however,  had  long  since  passed  away,  according  to  the 
lines  in  my  frontispiece. 

"A  merry  place,  'twas  said,  in  days  of  yore; 

But  something  ail'd  it  now — the  place  was  cursed." 

The  worthy  couple  (servants  and  favourites  of  the 
Mowbray  family)  who  first  kept  the  inn,  had  died  reason- 
ably wealthy,  after  long  carrying  on  a  flourishing  trade, 
leaving  behind  them  an  only  daughter.  They  had  ac- 
quired by  degrees  not  only  the  property  of  the  inn  itself, 
of  which  they  were  originally  tenants,  but  of  some  re- 
markably good  meadow-land  by  the  side  of  the  brook, 
which,  when  touched  by  a  little  pecuniary  necessity,  the 
Lairds  of  St.  Ronan's  had  disposed  of  piecemeal,  as  the 
readiest  way  to  portion  off  a  daughter,  procure  a  com- 
mission for  the  younger  son,  and  the  like  emergencies. 
So  that  Meg  Dods,  when  she  succeeded  to  her  parents, 
was  a  considerable  heiress,  and,  as  such,  had  the  honour 
of  refusing  three  topping  farmers,  two  bonnet-lairds,  and 
a  horse-couper,  who  successively  made  proposals  to  her. 

Many  bets  were  laid  on  the  horse-couper's  success,  but 
the  knowing  ones  were  taken  in.  Determined  to  ride 
the  fore-horse  herself,  Meg  would  admit  no  helpmate 
who  might  soon  assert  the  rights  of  a  master ;  and  so,  in 
single  blessedness,  and  with  the  despotism  of  Queen  Bess 


20  WAYKKLEY    NOVELS. 

herself,  she  ruled  all  matters  with  a  high  hand,  not  only 
over  her  men-servants  and  maid-servants,  but  over  the 
stranger  within  her  gates,  who,  if  he  ventured  to  oppose 
Meg's  sovereign  will  and  pleasure,  or  desired  to  have 
either  fare  or  accommodation  different  from  that  which 
she  chose  to  provide  for  him,  was  instantly  ejected  with 
that  answer  which  Erasmus  tells  us  silenced  all  com- 
plaints in  the  German  inns  of  his  time,  Quaere  aliud  hos- 
pitium,*  or,  as  Meg  expressed  it,  "  Troop  aff  wi'  ye  to 
another  public."  As  this  amounted  to  a  banishment  in 
extent  equal  to  sixteen  miles  from  Meg's  residence,  the 
unhappy  party  on  whom  it  was  passed,  had  no  other 
refuge  save  by  deprecating  the  wrath  of  his  landlady, 
and  resigning  himself  to  her  will.  It  is  but  justice  to 
Meg  Dods  to  state,  that  though  hers  was  a  severe  and 
almost  despotic  government,  it  could  not  be  termed  a 
tyranny,  since  it  was  exercised  upon  the  whole  for  the 
good  of  the  subject. 

The  vaults  of  the  old  Laird's  cellar  had  not,  even  in 
his  own  day,  been  replenished  with  more  excellent  wines ; 
the  only  difficulty  was  to  prevail  on  Meg  to  look  for  the 
precise  licmor  you  chose ; — to  which  it  may  be  added, 
that  she  often  became  restiff  when  she  thought  a  com- 
pany had  had  "  as  much  as  did  them  good,"  and  refused 
to  furnish  any  more  supplies.  Then  her  kitchen  was  her 
pride  and  glory ;  she  looked  to  the  dressing  of  every 
dish  herself,  and  there  were  some  with  which  she  suffered 
no  one  to  interfere.  Such  were  the  cock-a-leeky,  and 
the  savoury  minced  collops,  which  rivalled  in  their  way 

*  In  a  colloquy  of  Erasmus,  called  Diversaria,  there  is  a  very  un- 
savoury description  of  a  German  inn  of  the  period,  where  an  objection 
of  the  guest  is  answered  in  the  manner  expressed  in  the  text — a  great 
sign  of  want  of  competition  on  the  road. 


ST.  eonan's  well.  21 

even  the  veal  cutlets  of  our  old  friend  Mrs.  Hall,  at  Fer- 
rybridge. Meg's  table-linen,  bed-linen,  and  so  forth, 
were  always  home-made,  of  the  best  quality,  and  in  the 
best  order ;  and  a  weary  day  was  that  to  the  chamber- 
maid in  which  her  lynx  eye  discovered  any  neglect  of 
the  strict  cleanliness  which  she  constantly  enforced.  In- 
deed, considering  Meg's  country  and  calling,  we  were 
never  able  to  account  for  her  extreme  and  scrupulous 
nicety,  unless  by  supposing  that  it  afforded  her  the  most 
apt  and  frequent  pretext  for  scolding  her  maids ;  an  ex- 
ercise in  which  she  displayed  so  much  eloquence  and 
energy,  that  we  must  needs  believe  it  to  have  been  a 
favourite  one.* 

We  have  only  farther  to  commemorate,  the  moderation 
of  Meg's  reckonings,  which,  when  they  closed  the  ban- 
quet, often  relieved  the  apprehensions,  instead  of  sadden- 
ing the  heart,  of  the  rising  guest.  A  shilling  for  breakfast, 
three  shillings  for  dinner,  including  a  pint  of  old  port, 
eighteenpence  for  a  snug  supper — such  were  the  charges 
of  the  inn  at  Saint  Ronan's,  under  this  landlady  of  the 
olden  world,  even  after  the  nineteenth  century  had  com- 
menced ;  and  they  were  ever  tendered  with  the  pious 
recollection,  that  her  good  father  never  charged  half  so 
much,  but  these  weary  times  rendered  it  impossible  for 
her  to  make  the  lawing  less.f 

*  This  circumstance  shows  of  itself,  that  the  Meg  Dods  of  the  tale 
cannot  be  identified  with  her  namesake  Jenny  Dods,  who  kept  the  inn 
at  Howgare,  on  the  Peebles  road ;  for  Jenny,  far  different  from  our 
heroine,  was  unmatched  as  a  slattern. 

t  This  was  universally  the  case  in  Scotland  forty  or  fifty  years  ago; 
and  so  little  was  charged  for  a  domestic's  living  when  the  author  be- 
came first  acquainted  with  the  road,  that  a  shilling  or  eighteenpence 
was  sufficient  board  wages  for  a  man-servant,  when  a  crown  would 
not  now  answer  the  purpose.     It  is  true  the  cause  of  these  reasonable 


22  WAVKULEY    NOVELS. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  excellent  and  rare  properties, 
the  inn  at  St.  Ronan's  shared  the  decay  of  the  village  to 
which  it  belonged.  This  was  owing  to  various  circum- 
stances. The  high-road  had  been  turned  aside  from  the 
place,  the  steepness  of  the  street  being  murder  (so  the 
postilions  declared)  to  their  post-horses.  It  was  thought 
that  Meg's  stern  refusal  to  treat  them  with  liquor,  or  to 
connive  at  their  exchanging  for  porter  and  whisky  the 
corn  which  should  feed  their  cattle,  had  no  small  influence 
on  the  opinion  of  those  respectable  gentlemen,  and  that  a 
little  cutting  and  levelling  would  have  made  the  ascent 
easy  enough  ;  but  let  that  pass.  This  alteration  of  the 
highway  was  an  injury  which  Meg  did  not  easily  forgive 
to  the  country  gentlemen,  most  of  whom  she  had  recol- 
lected when  children.  "  Their  fathers,"  she  said,  "  wad 
not  have  done  the  like  of  it  to  a  lone  woman."  Then 
the  decay  of  the  village  itself,  which  had  formerly  con- 
tained a  set  of  feuars  and  bonnet-lairds,  who  under  the 
name  of  the  Chirupping  Club,  contrived  to  drink  two- 
penny, qualified  with  brandy  or  whisky,  at  least  twice  or 
thrice  a-week,  was  some  small  loss. 

The  temper  and  manners  of  the  landlady  scared  away 

charges  rested  upon  a  principle  equally  unjust  to  the  landlord,  and 
inconvenient  to  the  guest.  The  landlord  did  not  expect  to  make  any- 
thing upon  the  charge  for  eating  which  his  bill  contained ;  in  consid- 
eration of  which,  the  guest  was  expected  to  drink  more  wine  than 
might  be  convenient  or  agreeable  to  him,  "for  the  good,"  as  it  was 
called,  "of  the  house."  The  landlord  indeed  was  willing  and  ready  to 
assist,  in  this  duty,  every  stranger  who  came  within  his  gates.  Other 
things  were  ill  proportion.  A  charge  for  lodging,  fire,  and  candle, 
was  long  a  thing  unheard  of  in  Scotland.  A  shilling  to  the  housemaid 
settled  all  such  considerations.  I  see,  from  memorandums  of  1790, 
that  a  young  man,  with  two  ponies  and  a  serving-lad,  might  travel 
from  the  house  of  one  Meg  Dods  to  another,  through  most  part  of 
Scotland,  for  about  five  or  six  shillings  a-day. 


ST.  ronan's  well.  23 

all  customers  of  that  numerous  class,  who  will  not  allow 
originality  to  be  an  excuse  for  the  breach  of  decorum, 
and  who,  little  accustomed  perhaps  to  attendance  at  home, 
love  to  play  the  great  man  at  an  inn,  and  to  have  a  cer- 
tain number  of  bows,  deferential  speeches,  and  apologies, 
in  answer  to  the  G —  d — n  ye's  which  they  bestow  on  the 
house,  attendance,  and  entertainment.  Unto  those  who 
commenced  this  sort  of  barter  in  the  Clachan  of  St. 
Ronan's,  well  could  Meg  Dods  pay  it  back,  in  their 
own  coin  ;  and  glad  they  were  to  escape  from  the  house 
with  eyes  not  quite  scratched  out,  and  ears  not  more 
deafened  than  if  they  had  been  within  hearing  of  a 
pitched  battle. 

Nature  had  formed  honest  Meg  for  such  encounters ; 
and  as  her  noble  soul  delighted  in  them,  so  her  outward 
properties  were  in  what  Tony  Lumpkin  calls  a  concatena- 
tion accordingly.  She  had  hair  of  a  brindled  colour, 
betwixt  black  and  gray,  which  was  apt  to  escape  in  elf- 
locks  from  under  her  mutch  when  she  was  thrown  into 
violent  agitation — long  skinny  hands,  terminated  by  stout 
talons — gray  eyes,  thin  lips,  a  robust  person,  a  broad, 
though  flat  chest,  capital  wind,  and  a  voice  that  could 
match  a  choir  of  fish-women.  She  was  accustomed  to 
say  of  herself,  in  her  more  gentle  moods,  that  her  bark 
was  worse  than  her  bite  ;  but  what  teeth  could  have 
matched  a  tongue,  which,  when  in  full  career,  is  vouched 
to  have  been  heard  from  the  Kirk  to  the  Castle  of  St. 
Ronan's  ? 

These  notable  gifts,  however,  had  no  charms  for  the 
travellers  of  these  light  and  giddy-paced  times,  and  Meg's 
inn  became  less  and  less  frequented.  What  carried  the 
evil  to  the  uttermost  was,  that  a  fanciful  lady  of  rank  in 
the  neighbourhood  chanced  to  recover  of  some  imaginary 


24  W  WEREEY    NOVELS. 

complaint  by  the  use  of  a  mineral  well  about  a  mile  and 
a  half  from  the  village  ;  a  fashionable  doctor  was  found 
to  write  an  analysis  of  the  healing  waters,  with  a  list  of 
sundry  cures  ;  a  speculative  builder  took  land  in  feu,  and 
erected  lodging-houses,  shops,  and  even  streets.  At 
length  a  tontine  subscription  was  obtained  to  erect  an 
inn,  which,  for  the  more  grace,  was  called  a  hotel ;  and 
so  the  desertion  of  Meg  Dods  became  general.* 

She  had  still,  however,  her  friends  and  well-wishers, 
many  of  whom  thought,  that  as  she  was  a  lone  woman, 
and  known  to  be  well  to  pass  in  the  world,  she  would  act 

*  In  Scotland,  a  village  is  erected  upon  a  species  of  landright,  very- 
different  from  the  copyhold  so  frequent  in  England.  Every  alienation 
or  sale  of  landed  property  must  be  made  in  the  shape  of  a  feudal  con- 
veyance, and  the  party  who  acquires  it  holds  thereby  an  absolute 
and  perfect  right  of  property  in  the  fief,  while  he  discharges  the 
stipulations  of  the  vassal,  and,  above  all,  pays  the  feu-duties.  The 
vassal  or  tenant  of  the  site  of  the  smallest  cottage  holds  his  possession 
as  absolutely  as  the  proprietor,  of  whose  large  estate  it  is  perhaps 
scarce  a  perceptible  portion.  By  dint  of  excellent  laws,  the  sasines 
or  deeds  of  delivery  of  such  fiefs,  are  placed  on  record  in  such  order, 
that  every  burden  affecting  the  property  can  be  seen  for  payment  of  a 
very  moderate  fee ;  so  that  a  person  proposing  to  lend  money  upon  it, 
knows  exactly  the  nature  and  extent  of  his  security'. 

From  the  nature  of  these  landrights  being  so  explicit  and  secure, 
the  Scottish  people  have  been  led  to  entertain  a  jealousy  of  building- 
leases,  of  however  long  duration.  Not  long  ago,  a  great  landed  pro- 
prietor took  the  latter  mode  of  disposing  of  some  ground  near  a 
thriving  town  in  the  west  country.  The  number  of  years  in  the  lease 
was  settled  at  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine.  All  was  agreed  to,  and 
the  deeds  were  ordered  to  be  drawn.  But  the  tenant,  as  he  walked 
down  the  avenue,  began  to  reflect  that  the  lease,  though  so  very  long 
as  to  be  almost  perpetual,  nevertheless  had  a  termination;  and  that 
after  the  lapse  of  a  thousand  years,  lacking  one,  the  connexion  of  his 
family  and  representatives  with  the  estate  would  cease.  He  took  a 
qualm  at  the  thought  of  the  loss  to  be  sustained  by  his  posterity  a 
thousand  years  hence;  and  going  back  to  the  house  of  the  gentleman 
who  feued  the  ground,  he  demanded,  and  readily  obtained,  the  ad- 
ditional term  of  fifty  years  to  be  added  to  the  lease. 


ST.  ronan's  well.  25 

wisely  to  retire  from  public  life,  and  take  down  a  sign 
which  had  no  longer  fascination  for  guests.  But  Meg's 
spirit  scorned  submission  direct  or  implied.  "  Her 
father's  door,"  she  said,  "  should  be  open  to  the  road, 
till  her  father's  bairn  should  be  streekit  and  carried  out 
at  it  with  her  feet  foremost.  It  was  not  for  the  profit — 
there  was  little  profit  at  it ; — profit  ? — there  was  a  dead 
loss ; — but  she  wad  not  be  dung  by  any  of  them.  They 
maun  hae  a  hottle,*  maun  they  ? — and  an  honest  public 
canna  serve  them  !  They  may  hottle  that  likes  ;  but 
they  shall  see  that  Lucky  Dods  can  hottle  on  as  lang  as 
the  best  of  them — ay,  though  they  had  made  a  Tamteen 
of  it,  and  linkit  aw  their  breaths  of  lives,  whilk  are  in 
their  nostrils,  on  end  of  ilk  other  like  a  string  of  wild- 
geese,  and  the  langest  liver  bruick  a',  (whilk  was  sinful 
presumption,)  she  would  match  ilk  ane  of  them  as  lang 
as  her  ain  wind  held  out."  Fortunate  it  was  for  Meg, 
since  she  had  formed  this  doughty  resolution,  that 
although  her  inn  had  decayed  in  custom,  her  land  had 
ri?en  in  value  in  a  degree  which  more  than  compensated 
the  balance  on  the  wrong  side  of  her  books,  and,  joined 
to  her  usual  providence  and  economy,  enabled  her  to  act 
up  to  her  lofty  purpose. 

She  prosecuted  her  trade  too  with  every  attention  to 
its  diminished  income ;  shut  up  the  windows  of  one  half 
of  her  house,  to  baffle  the  tax-gatherer ;  retrenched  her 
furniture  ;  discharged  her  pair  of  post-horses,  and  pen- 
sioned off  the  old  hump-backed  postilion  who  drove  them, 
retaining  his  services,  however,  as  an  assistant  to  a  still 
more  aged  hostler.  To  console  herself  for  restrictions  by 
which  her  pride  was  secretly  wounded,  she  agreed  with 

*  This  Gallic  word  (hotel)  was  first  introduced  in   Scotland  during 
the  author's  childhood,  and  was  so  pronounced  by  the  lower  class. 


2G  WAVK11LEY    NOVELS. 

the  celebrated  Dick  Tinto  to  repaint  her  father's  sign, 
which  had  become  rather  undecipherable ;  and  Dick 
accordingly  gilded  the  Bishop's  crook,  and  augmented 
the  horrors  of  the  Devil's  aspect,  until  it  became  a  terror 
hi  all  the  younger  fry  of  the  school-house,  and  a  sort  of 
visible  illustration  of  the  terrors  of  the  arch-enemy,  with 
which  the  minister  endeavoured  to  impress  their  infant 
minds. 

Under  this  renewed  symbol  of  her  profession,  Meg 
Dods,  or  Meg  Dorts,  as  she  was  popularly  termed,  on 
account  of  her  refractory  humours,  was  still  patronized  by 
some  steady  customers.  Such  were  the  members  of  the 
Killnakelty  Hunt,  once  famous  on  the  turf  and  in  the 
field,  but  now  a  set  of  venerable  gray-headed  sportsmen, 
who  had  sunk  from  fox-hounds  to  basket-beagles  and 
coursing,  and  who  made  an  easy  canter  on  their  quiet 
nags  a  gentle  induction  to  a  dinner  at  Meg's.  "  A  set  of 
honest  decent  men  they  were,"  Meg  said ;  "  had  their 
sang  and  their  joke — and  what  for  no  ?  Their  bind  was 
just  a  Scots  pint  over-head,  and  a  tappit-hen  to  the  bill, 
and  no  man  ever  saw  them  the  waur  o't.  It  was  thae 
cockle-brained  callants  of  the  present  day  that  would  be 
mail*  owerta'en  with  a  puir  quart  than  douce  folks  were 
with  a  magnum." 

Then  there  was  a  set  of  ancient  brethren  of  the  ansrle 
from  Edinburgh,  who  visited  St.  Ronan's  frequently  in 
the  spring  and  summer,  a  class  of  guests  peculiarly 
acceptable  to  Meg,  who  permitted  them  more  latitude  in 
her  premises  than  she  was  known  to  allow  to  any  other 
body.  "  They  were,"  she  said,  "  pawky  auld  carles, 
that  kend  whilk  side  their  bread  was  buttered  upon.  Ye 
never  kend  of  ony  o'  them  ganging  to  the  spring,  as  they 
behoved  to  ca'  the  stinking  well  yonder. — Na,  na — they 


ST.  roxan's  well.  27 

were  up  in  the  morning — had  their  parritch,  wi'  maybe 
a  thimblefull  of  brandy,  and  then  awa'  up  into  the  hills, 
eat  their  bit  cauld  meat  on  the  heather,  and  came  hame 
at  e'en  wi'  the  creel  full  of  caller  trouts,  and  had  them  to 
their  dinner,  and  their  quiet  cogue  of  ale,  and  their  drap 
punch,  and  were  set  singing  their  catches  and  glees,  as 
they  ca'd  them,  till  ten  o'clock,  and  then  to  bed,  wi'  God 
bless  ye — and  what  for  no  ?  " 

Thirdly,  we  may  commemorate  some  ranting  blades, 
who  also  came  from  the  metropolis  to  visit  St.  Ronan's, 
attracted  by  the  humours  of  Meg,  and  still  more  by  the 
excellence  of  her  liquor,  and  the  cheapness  of  her  reckon- 
ings. These  were  members  of  the  Helter  Skelter  Club, 
of  the  Wildfire  Club,  and  other  associations  formed  for 
the  express  purpose  of  getting  rid  of  care  and  sobriety. 
Such  dashers  occasioned  many  a  racket  in  Meg's  house, 
and  many  a  bourasque  in  Meg's  temper.  Various  were 
the  arts  of  flattery  and  violence  by  which  they  endeav- 
oured to  get  supplies  of  liquor,  when  Meg's  conscience 
told  her  they  had  had  too  much  already.  Sometimes 
they  failed,  as  when  the  croupier  of  the  Helter  Skelter 
got  himself  scalded  with  the  mulled  wine,  in  an  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  coax  this  formidable  virago  by  a  salute ; 
and  the  excellent  president  of  the  Wildfire  received  a 
broken  head  from  the  keys  of  the  cellar,  as  he  endeav- 
oured to  possess  himself  of  these  emblems  of  authority. 
But  little  did  these  dauntless  officials  care  for  the  exu- 
berant frolics  of  Meg's  temper,  which  were  to  them  only 
"  pretty  Fanny's  way " — the  dulces  Amaryllidis  tree. 
And  Meg,  on  her  part,  though  she  often  called  them 
"  drunken  ne'er-do-weels,  and  thorough-bred  High  Street 
blackguards,"  allowed  no  other  person  to  speak  ill  of 
them  in  her  hearing.     "  They  were    daft   callants,"  she 


28  AVAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

said,  "  and  that  was  all — when  the  drink  was  in,  the  wit 
was  out — ye  could  not  put  an  auld  head  upon  young 
shouthers — a  young  cowt  will  canter,  be  it  up-hill  or 
down — and  what  for  no  ?  "  was  her  uniform  conclusion. 

Nor  must  we  omit,  among  Meg's  steady  customers, 
"  faithful  amongst  the  unfaithful  found,"  the  copper- 
nosed  sheriff-clerk  of  the  county,  who,  when  summoned 
by  official  duty  to  that  district  of  the  shire,  warmed  by 
recollections  of  her  double-brewed  ale,  and  her  generous 
Antigua,  always  advertised  that  his  "  Prieves,"  or 
"  Comptis,"  or  whatever  other  business  was  in  hand, 
were  to  proceed  on  such  a  day  and  hour,  ';  within  the 
house  of  Margaret  Dods,  vintner  in  St.  Ronan's." 

We  have  only  farther  to  notice  Meg's  mode  of  con- 
ducting herself  towards  chance  travellers,  who,  knowing 
nothing  of  nearer  or  more  fashionable  accommodations, 
or  perhaps  consulting  rather  the  state  of  their  purse  than 
of  their  taste,  stumbled  upon  her  house  of  entertainment. 
Her  reception  of  these  was  as  precarious  as  the  hospi- 
tality of  a  savage  nation  to  sailors  shipwrecked  on  their 
coast.  If  the  guests  seemed  to  have  made  her  mansion 
their  free  choice — or  if  she  liked  their  appearance  (and 
her  taste  was  very  capricious) — above  all,  if  they  seemed 
pleased  with  what  they  got,  and  little  disposed  to  criticise 
or  give  trouble,  it  was  all  very  well.  But  if  they  had 
come  to  St.  Ronan's  because  the  house  at  the  Well  was 
full — or  if  she  disliked  what  the  sailor  calls  the  cut  of 
their  jib — or  if,  above  all,  they  were  critical  about  their 
accommodations,  none  so  likely  as  Meg  to  give  them 
what  in  her  country  is  called  a  sloan.  In  fact,  she 
reckoned  such  persons  a  part  of  that  ungenerous  and  un- 
grateful public,  for  whose  sake  she  was  keeping  her 
house  open  at  a  dead  loss,  and  who  had  left  her,  as  it 
were,  a  victim  to  her  patriotic  zeal. 


ST.  roxan's  well.  29 

Hence  arose  the  different  reports  concerning  the  little 
inn  of  St.  Ronan's,  which  some  favoured  travellers  praised 
as  the  neatest  and  most  comfortable  old-fashioned  house 
in  Scotland,  where  you  had  good  attendance,  and  good 
cheer,  at  moderate  rates  ;  while  others,  less  fortunate, 
could  only  talk  of  the  darkness  of  the  rooms,  the  homeli- 
ness of  the  old  furniture,  and  the  detestable  bad  humour 
of  Meg  Dotls,  the  landlady. 

Reader,  if  you  come  from  the  more  sunny  side  of  the 
Tweed — or  even  if,  being  a  Scot,  you  have  had  the 
advantage  to  be  born  within  the  last  twenty-five  years, 
you  may  be  induced  to  think  this  portrait  of  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth, in  Dame  Quickly's  piqued  hat  and  green  apron, 
somewhat  overcharged  in  the  features.  But  I  appeal  to 
my  own  contemporaries,  who  have  known  Avheel-road, 
bridle-way,  and  foot-path,  for  thirty  years,  whether  they 
do  not,  every  one  of  them,  remember  Meg  Dods — or 
somebody  very  like  her.  Indeed,  so  much  is  this  the 
case,  that,  about  the  period  I  mention,  I  should  have  been 
afraid  to  have  rambled  from  the  Scottish  metropolis,  in 
almost  any  direction,  lest  I  had  lighted  upon  some  one  of 
the  sisterhood  of  Dame  Quickly,  who  might  suspect  me 
of  having  showed  her  up  to  the  public  in  the  character  of 
Meg  Dods.  At  present,  though  it  is  possible  that  some 
one  or  two  of  this  peculiar  class  of  wild-cats  may  still 
exist,  their  talons  must  be  much  impaired  by  age  ;  and  I 
think  they  can  do  little  more  than  sit,  like  the  Giant  Pope, 
in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  at  the  door  of  their  unfre- 
quented caverns,  and  grin  at  the  pilgrims  over  whom 
they  used  formerly  to  execute  their  despotism. 


30  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 


CHAPTER   II. 


THE    GUEST. 


Quis  novus  bic  hospes? 

Dido  apud  Viegilium. 

Ch'ani-niaid  !  The  Gernman  in  the  front  parlour  ! 

Boots's  free  Translation  op  the  Eneid. 


It  was  on  a  fine  summer's  clay  that  a  solitary  travel- 
ler rode  under  the  old-fashioned  archway,  and  alighted  in 
the  court-yard  of  Meg  Dods's  inn,  and  delivered  the  bridle 
of  his  horse  to  the  hump-backed  postilion.  "  Bring  my 
saddle-bags,"  he  said,  "  into  the  house — or  stay — I  am 
abler,  I  think,  to  carry  them  than  you."  He  then  as- 
sisted the  poor  meagre  groom  to  unbuckle  the  straps 
which  secured  the  humble  and  now  despised  convenience, 
and  meantime  gave  strict  charges  that  his  horse  should 
be  unbridled,  and  put  into  a  clean  and  comfortable  stall, 
the  girths  slacked,  and  a  cloth  cast  over  his  loins  ;  but 
that  the  saddle  should  not  be  removed  until  he  himself 
came  to  see  him  dressed. 

The  companion  of  his  travels  seemed  in  the  hostler's 
eye  deserving  of  his  care,  being  a  strong  active  horse,  fit 
either  for  the  road  or  field,  but  rather  high  in  bone  from 
a  long  journey,  though  from  the  state  of  his  skin  it  ap- 
peared the  utmost  care  had  been  bestowed  to  keep  him  in 
condition.     While  the  groom  obeyed  the  stranger's  direc- 


ST.  ronan's  well.  31 

tions,  the  latter,  with  the  saddle-bags  laid  over  his  arm, 
entered  the  kitchen  of  the  inn. 

Here  he  found  the  landlady  herself  in  none  of  her 
most  blessed  humours.  The  cookmaid  was  abroad  on 
some  errand,  and  Meg,  in  a  close  review  of  the  kitchen 
apparatus,  was  making  the  unpleasant  discovery,  that 
trenchers  had  been  broken  or  cracked,  pots  and  sauce- 
pans not  so  accurately  scoured  as  her  precise  notions  of 
cleanliness  required,  which,  joined  to  other  detections  of 
a  more  petty  description,  stirred  her  bile  in  no  small 
degree ;  so  that  while  she  disarranged  and  arranged  the 
bink,  she  maundered,  in  an  under  tone,  complaints  and 
menaces  against  the  absent  delinquent. 

The  entrance  of  a  guest  did  not  induce  her  to  suspend 
this  agreeable  amusement — she  just  glanced  at  him  as  he 
entered,  then  turned  her  back  short  on  him,  and  contin- 
ued her  labour  and  her  soliloquy  of  lamentation.  Truth 
is,  she  thought  she  recognised  in  the  person  of  the  stran- 
ger, one  of  those  useful  envoys  of  the  commercial  com- 
munity, called  by  themselves  and  the  waiters,  Travellers, 
par  excellence — by  others,  Riders  and  Bagmen.  Now 
against  this  class  of  customers  Meg  had  peculiar  preju- 
dices ;  because,  there  being  no  shops  in  the  old  village 
of  St.  Ronan's,  the  said  commercial  emissaries,  for  the 
convenience  of  their  traffic,  always  took  up  their  abode 
at  the  New  Inn,  or  Hotel,  in  the  rising  and  rival  village 
called  St.  Ronan's  Well,  unless  when  some  straggler,  by 
chance  or  dire  necessity,  was  compelled  to  lodge  himself 
at  the  Auld  Town,  as  the  place  of  Meg's  residence  began 
to  be  generally  termed.  She  had,  therefore,  no  sooner 
formed  the  hasty  conclusion  that  the  individual  in  ques- 
tion belonged  to  this  obnoxious  class,  than  she  resumed 
her  former  occupation,  and  continued  to  soliloquize  and 


32  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

apostrophize  her  absent  handmaidens,  without  even  ap- 
pearing sensible  of  his  presence. 

"  The  huzzy  Beenie — the  jaud  Eppie — the  deil's  buekie 
of  a  callant  ! — Another  plate  gane — they'll  break  me  out 
of  house  and  ha' !  " 

The  traveller,  who,  with  his  saddle-bags  rested  on  the 
back  of  a  chair,  had  waited  in  silence  for  some  note  of 
welcome,  now  saw  that  ghost  or  no  ghost  he  must  speak 
first,  if  he  intended  to  have  any  notice  from  his  landlady. 
"You  are  my  old  acquaintance,  Mistress  Margaret 
Dods  ?  "  said  the  stranger. 

"  What  for  no  ? — and  wha  are  ye  that  speers  ?  "  said 
Meg,  in  the  same  breath,  and  began  to  rub  a  brass  candle- 
stick with  more  vehemence  than  before — the  dry  tone  in 
which  she  spoke  indicating  plainly,  how  little  concern  she 
took  in  the  conversation. 

"  A  traveller,  good  Mistress  Dods,  who  comes  to  take 
up  his  lodgings  here  for  a  day  or  two." 

"  I  am  thinking  ye  will  be  mista'en,"  said  Meg  ;  "  there's 
nae  room  for  bags  or  jaugs  here — ye've  mista'en  your 
road,  neighbour — ye  maun  e'en  bundle  yoursell  a  bit  far- 
ther down  hill." 

"  I  see  you  have  not  got  the  letter  I  sent  you,  Mistress 
Dods  ?  "  said  the  guest. 

"  How  should  I,  man ? "  answered  the  hostess;  "they 
have  ta'en  awa  the  post-office  from  us — moved  it  down  till 
the  Spawell  yonder,  as  they  ca'd." 

"  Why,  that  is  but  a  step  off",'  observed  the  guest. 
"  Ye  will  get  there  the  sooner,"  answered  the  hostess. 
"  Nay,  but,"  said  the  guest,  "  if  you  had  sent  there  for 

my  letter,  you  would  have  learned  " 

"  I'm  no  wanting  to  learn  ony  thing  at  my  years,"  said 
Me"-.     "  If  folk  have  ony  thing  to  write  to  me  about,  they 


st.  eonan's  well.  33 

may  gie  the  letter  to  John  Hislop,  the  carrier,  that  has 
used  the  road  these  forty  years.  As  for  the  letters  at  the 
post-mistress's,  as  they  ca'  her,  down  by  yonder,  they  may 
bide  in  her  shop-window,  wi'  the  snaps  and  bawbee  rows 
till  Beltane,  or  I  loose  them.  I'll  never  file  my  fingers 
with  them.  Post -mistress,  indeed  ! — Upsetting  Cutty  ! 
I  mind  her  fou  weel  when  she  dree'd  penance  for  ante- 
nup  " 

Laughing,  but  interrupting  Meg  in  good  time  for  the 
character  of  the  post-mistress,  the  stranger  assured  her 
he  had  sent  his  fishing-rod  and  trunk  to  her  confidential 
friend  the  carrier,  and  that  he  sincerely  hoped  she  would 
not  turn  an  old  acquaintance  out  of  her  premises,  especi- 
ally as  he  believed  he  could  not  sleep  in  a  bed  within  five 
miles  of  St.  Ronan's,  if  he  knew  that  her  Blue  room  was 
unengaged. 

"  Fishing-rod  ! — Auld  acquaintance  ! — Blue  room  !  " 
echoed  Meg,  in  some  surprise  ;  and,  facing  round  upon 
the  stranger,  and  examining  him  with  some  interest  and 
curiosity, — "  Ye'll  be  nae  bag-man,  then,  after  a'  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  traveller;  "not  since  I  have  laid  the 
saddle-bags  out  of  my  hand." 

"  Weel,  I  canna  say  but  I  am  glad  of  that — I  canna 
bide  their  yanking  way  of  knapping  English  at  every 
word. — I  have  kent  decent  lads  amang  them  too — What 
for  no  ? — But  that  was  when  they  stoj)ped  up  here  whiles, 
like  other  douce  folk ;  but  since  they  gaed  down,  the  hail 
flight  of  them,  like  a  string  of  wild-geese,  to  the  new- 
fashioned  bottle  yonder,  I  am  told  there  are  as  mony 
hellicate  tricks  played  in  the  travellers'  room,  as  they  be- 
hove to  call  it,  as  if  it  were  fou  of  drunken  young  lairds." 

"  That  is  because  they  have  not  you  to  keep  good 
order  among  them,  Mistress  Margaret." 

VOL.    XXXIII.  3 


34  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"  Ay,  lad  ?  "  replied  Meg  ;  "  ye  are  a  fine  blaw-in-my- 
lug,  to  think  to  cuitle  me  off  sae  cleverly  !  "  And,  facing 
about  upon  her  guest,  she  honoured  him  with  a  more  close 
and  curious  investigation  than  she  had  at  first  designed  to 
bestow  upon  him. 

All   that    she    remarked   was    in    her   opinion    rather 
favourable  to  the  stranger.     lie  was  a  well-made  man, 
rather  above  than  under  the  middle  size,  and  apparently 
betwixt    five-and-twenty  and   thirty  years    of   age — for, 
although  he  might,  at  first  glance,  have  passed  for  one 
who  had  attained  the  latter  period,  yet,  on  a  nearer  ex- 
amination, it  seemed  as  if  the  burning  sun  of  a  warmer 
climate  than  Scotland,  and  perhaps  some  fatigue,  both  of 
body  and  mind,  had  imprinted  the  marks  of  care  and  of 
manhood  upon  his  countenance,  without  abiding  the  course 
of  years.     His  eyes  and  teeth  were  excellent,  and  his 
other  features,  though  they  could  scarce  be  termed  hand- 
some,  expressed  sense   and  acuteness ;   he  bore,  in  his 
aspect,  that  ease  and  composure  of  manner,  equally  void 
of  awkwardness  and  affectation,  which  is  said  emphati- 
cally to  mark  the  gentleman  ;  and,  although  neither  the 
plainness  of  his  dress,  nor  the   total  want  of  the  usual 
attendants,  allowed  Meg  to  suppose  him  a  wealthy  man, 
she  had  little  doubt  that  he  was  above  the  rank  of  her 
lodgers  in  general.    Amidst  these  observations,  and  while 
she  was  in  the  course  of  making  them,  the  good  landlady 
was   embarrassed  with   various   obscure  recollections  of 
having  seen  the  object  of  them  formerly  ;  but  when,  or 
on  what  occasion,  she  was  quite  unable  to  call  to  remem- 
brance.    She  was  particularly  puzzled  by  the  cold  and 
sarcastic  expression  of  a  countenance,  which  she  could 
not  by  any  means  reconcile  with  the  recollections  which 
it  awakened.     At  length  she  said,  with  as  much  courtesy 


ST.    ROXANS    WELL.  35 

as  she  was  capable  of  assuming, — "  Either  I  have  seen 
you  before,  sir,  or  some  ane  very  like  ye  ? — Ye  ken  the 
Blue  room,  too,  and  you  a  stranger  in  these  parts  ?  " 

"  Not  so  much  a  stranger  as  you  may  suppose,  Meg," 
said  the  guest,  assuming  a  more  intimate  tone,  "  when  I 
call  myself  Frank  Tyrrel." 

"  Tirl  !  "  exclaimed  Meg,  with  a  tone  of  wonder — "  It's 
impossible !  You  cannot  be  Francie  Tirl,  the  wild  cal- 
lant  that  was  fishing  and  bird-nesting  here  seven  or  ei«ht 
years  syne — it  canna  be — Francie  was  but  a  callant !  " 

"  But  add  seven  or  eight  years  to  that  boy's  life,  Meg," 
said  the  stranger,  gravely,  ;'  and  you  will  find  you  have 
the  man  who  is  now  before  you." 

"  Even  sae  !  "  said  Meg,  with  a  glance  at  the  reflection 
of  her  own  countenance  in  the  copper  coffee-pot,  which 
she  had  scoured  so  brightly  that  it  did  the  office  of  a 
mirror — "Just  e'en  sae — but  folk  maun  grow  auld  or 
die. — But,  Mr.  Tirl,  for  I  maunna  ca'  ye  Francie  now,  I 
am  thinking  " 

"  Call  me  what  you  please,  good  dame,"  said  the  stran- 
ger ;  it  has  been  so  long  since  I  heard  any  one  call  me 
by  a  name  that  sounded  like  former  kindness,  that  such 
a  one  is  more  agreeable  to  me  than  a  lord's  title  would 
be." 

"  Weel,  then,  Maister  Francie— if  it  be  no  offence  to 
you — I  hope  ye  are  no  a  Nabob  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  I  can  safely  assure  you,  my  old  friend ; — but 
what  an  I  were?" 

"  Naething — only  maybe  I  might  bid  ye  gang  farther, 
and  be  waur  served. — Nabobs,  indeed!  the  country's 
plagued  wi'  them.  They  have  raised  the  price  of  eggs 
and  pootry  for  twenty  miles  round— But  what  is  my 
business  ? — They  use  almaist  a'  of  them  the  Well  down 


3G  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

by — they  need  it,  ye  ken  for  the  clearing  of  their  copper 
complexions,  that  need  scouring  as  much  as  my  sauce- 
pans, that,  naebody  can  clean  but  mysell." 

"  Well,  my  good  friend,"  said  Tyrrel,  "  the  upshot  of 
all  this  is,  I  hope,  that  I  am  to  stay  and  have  dinner  here  ?" 

"  What  for  no  ?  "  replied  Mrs.  Dods. 

"And  that  I  am  to  have  the  Blue  room  for  a  night  or 
two — perhaps  longer  ?  " 

"I  dinnaken  that,"  said  the  dame. — "The  Blue  room 
is  the  best — and  they  that  get  neist  best  are  no  ill  aff  in 
this  warld." 

"  Arrange  it  as  you  will,"  said  the  stranger,  "  I  leave 
the  whole  matter  to  you,  mistress. — Meantime,  I  will  go 
see  after  my  horse." 

"  The  merciful  man,"  said  Meg,  when  her  guest  had 
left  the  kitchen,  "  is  merciful  to  his  beast. — He  had  aye 
something  about  him  by  ordinar,  that  callant — But  eh, 
sirs  !  there  is  a  sair  change  on  his  cheek-haffit  since  I 
saw  him  last ! — He  sail  no  want  a  good  dinner  for  auld 
lang  syne,  that  I'se  engage  for." 

Meg  set  about  the  necessary  preparations  with  all  the 
natural  energy  of  her  disposition,  which  was  so  much 
exerted  upon  her  culinary  cares,  that  her  two  maids,  on 
their  return  to  the  house,  escaped  the  bitter  reprimand 
which  she  had  been  previously  conning  over,  in  reward 
for  their  alleged  slatternly  negligence.  Nay,  so  far  did 
she  carry  her  complaisance,  that  when  Tyrrel  crossed  the 
kitchen  to  recover  his  saddle-bags,  she  formally  rebuked 
Eppie  for  an  idle  taupie,  for  not  carrying  the  gentleman's 
things  to  his  room. 

"  I  thank  you,  mistress,"  said  Tyrrel ;  "  but  I  have  some 
drawings  and  colours  in  these  saddle-bags,  and  I  always 
like  to  carry  them  myself." 


st.  ronan's  well.  37 

"  Ay,  and  are  you  at  the  painting  trade  yet  ? "  said 
Meg ;  "  an  unco  slaister  ye  used  to  make  with  it  lang 
syne." 

"I  cannot  live  without  it,"  said  Tyrrel ;  and,  taking 
the  saddle-bags,  was  formally  inducted  by  the  maid  into 
a  snug  apartment,  where  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  to 
behold  a  capital  dish  of  minced  collops,  with  vegetables, 
and  a  jug  of  excellent  ale,  placed  on  the  table  by  the 
careful  hand  of  Meg  herself.  He  could  do  no  less,  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  honour,  than  ask  Meg  for  a  bottle 
of  the  yellow  seal,  "  if  there  was  any  of  that  excellent 
claret  still  left." 

"  Left  ? — ay  is  there,  walth  of  it,"  said  Meg ;  "  I  dinna 
gie  it  to  every  body — Ah  !  Maister  Tirl,  ye  have  not  got 
owre  your  auld  tricks  ! — I  am  sure,  if  ye  are  painting 
for  your  leeving.  as  you  say,  a  little  rum  and  water  would 
come  cheaper,  and  do  ye  as  much  good.  But  ye  maun 
hae  your  ain  way  the  day,  nae  doubt,  if  ye  should  never 
have  it  again." 

Away  trudged  Meg,  her  keys  clattering  as  she  went, 
and  after  much  rummaging,  returned  with  such  a  bottle 
of  claret  as  no  fashionable  tavern  could  have  produced, 
were  it  called  for  by  a  duke,  or  at  a  duke's  price ;  and 
she  seemed  not  a  little  gratified  when  her  guest  assured 
her  that  he  had  not  yet  forgotten  its  excellent  flavour. 
She  retired  after  these  acts  of  hospitality,  and  left  the 
stranger  to  enjoy  in  quiet  the  excellent  matters  which  she 
had  placed  before  him. 

But  there  was  that  on  Tyrrel's  mind  which  defied  the 
enlivening  power  of  good  cheer  and  of  wine,  which  only 
maketh  man's  heart  glad  when  that  heart  has  no  secret 
oppression  to  counteract  its  influence.  Tyrrel  found  him- 
self on   a   spot  which   he   had  loved   in   that  delightful 


38  "WAVKRLEY    NOVELS. 

season,  when  youth  and  high  spirits  awaken  all  those 
flattering  promises  which  are  so  ill  kept  to  manhood. 
He  drew  his  chair  into  the  embrasure  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned window,  and  throwing  up  the  sash  to  enjoy  the 
fresh  air,  suffered  his  thoughts  to  return  to  former  days, 
while  his  eyes  wandered  over  objects  which  they  had 
not  looked  upon  for  several  eventful  years.  He  could 
behold  beneath  his  eye,  the  lower  part  of  the  decayed 
village,  as  its  ruins  peeped  from  the  umbrageous  shelter 
with  which  they  were  shrouded.  Still  lower  down,  upon 
the  little  holm  which  formed  its  churchyard,  was  seen  the 
Kirk  of  St.  Ronan's  ;  and  looking  yet  farther,  towards 
the  junction  of  St.  Ronan's  Burn  with  the  river  which 
traversed  the  larger  dale,  or  valley,  he  could  see,  whit- 
ened by  the  western  sun,  the  rising  houses,  which  were 
either  newly  finished  or  in  the  act  of  being  built,  about 
the  medicinal  spring. 

"  Time  changes  all  around  us,"  such  was  the  course 
of  natural  though  trite  reflection,  which  flowed  upon 
Tyrrel's  mind  ;  "  wherefore  should  loves  and  friendships 
have  a  longer  date  than  our  dwellings  and  our  monu- 
ments ?  "  As  he  indulged  these  sombre  recollections,  his 
officious  landlady  disturbed  their  tenor  by  her  entrance. 

"  I  was  thinking  to  offer  you  a  dish  of  tea,  Maister 
Francie,  just  for  the  sake  of  auld  lang  syne,  and  I'll  gar 
the  quean  Beenie  bring  it  here,  and  mask  it  mysell. — 
But  ye  arena  done  with  your  wine  yet  ?  ' 

"  I  am  indeed,  Mrs.  Dods,"  answered  Tyrrel ;  "  and  I 
beg  you  will  remove  the  bottle." 

"  Remove  the  bottle,  and  the  wine  no  half  drunk 
out  ! "  said  Meg,  displeasure  lowering  on  her  brow  ;  "  I 
hope  there  is  nae  fault  to  be  found  wi'  the  wine,  Maister 
Tirl  ?  " 


ST.  ronan's  well.  39 

To  this  answer,  which  was  put  in  a  tone  resembling 
defiance,  Tyrrel  submissively  replied,  by  declaring  "  the 
claret  not  pnly  unexceptionable,  but  excellent." 

"  And  what  for  dinna  ye  drink  it,  then  ? "  said  Meg, 
sharply ;  "  folk  should  never  ask  for  mair  liquor  than 
they  can  mak  a  gude  use  of.  Maybe  ye  think  we  have 
the  fashion  of  the  table-dot,  as  they  ca'  their  new-fangled 
ordinary  down-by  yonder,  where  a'  the  bits  of  vinegar 
cruets  are  put  awa  into  an  awmry,  as  they  tell  me,  and 
ilk  ane  wi'  the  bit  dribbles  of  syndings  in  it,  and  a  paper 
about  the  neck  o't,  to  show  which  of  the  customers  is 
aught  it — there  they  stand  like  doctor's  drogs — and  no 
an  honest  Scottish  mutchkin  will  ane  o'  their  viols  baud, 
granting  it  were  at  the  fouest." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Tyrrel,  willing  to  indulge  the  spleen 
and  prejudice  of  his  old  acquaintance,  "  perhaps  the  wine 
is  not  so  good  as  to  make  full  measure  desirable." 

"  Ye  may  say  that,  lad — and  yet  them  that  sell  it 
might  afford  a  gude  penniworth,  for  they  hae  it  for  the 
making — maist  feck  of  it  ne'er  saw  France  or  Portugal. 
But  as  I  was  saying — this  is  no  ane  of  their  new-fangled 
places,  where  wine  is  put  by  for  them  that  canna  drink 
it — when  the  cork's  drawn  the  bottle  maun  be  drunk  out 
— and  what  for  no  ? — unless  it  be  corkit." 

"  I  agree  entirely,  Meg,"  said  her  guest ;  "  but  my  ride 
to-day  has  somewhat  heated  me — and  I  think  the  dish  of 
tea  you  promise  me,  will  do  me  more  good  than  to  finish 
toy  bottle." 

"  Na,  then,  the  best  I  can  do  for  you  is  to  put  it  by,  to 
be  sauce  for  the  wild-duck  the  morn ;  for  I  think  ye  said 
ye  were  to  bide  here  for  a  day  or  twa." 

"  It  is  my  very  purpose,  Meg,  unquestionably,"  replied 
Tyrrel. 


40  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"  Sae  be  it  then,"  said  Mrs.  Dods ;  "  and  then  the 
liquor's  no  lost — it  has  been  seldom  sic  claret  as  that  has 
simmered  in  a  saucepan,  let  me  tell  you  that,  neighbour  ; 
— and  1  mind  the  day,  when  headach  or  nae  headach,  ye 
wad  hae  been  at  the  hinder-end  of  that  bottle,  and  maybe 
anither,  if  ye  could  have  gotten  it  wiled  out  of  me.  But 
then  ye  had  your  cousin  to  help  you — Ah  !  he  was  a 
blythe  bairn  that  Valentine  Bulmer ! — Ye  were  a  canty 
callant  too,  Maister  Francie,  and  muckle  ado  I  had  to 
keep  ye  baith  in  order  when  ye  were  on  the  ramble. 
But  ye  were  a  thought  doucer  than  Valentine — But  O ! 
he  was  a  bonny  laddie  ! — wi'  e'en  like  diamonds,  cheeks 
like  roses,  a  head  like  a  heathertap — he  was  the  first  I 
ever  saw  wear  a  crap,  as  they  ca'  it,  but  a'  body  cheats 
the  barber  now — and  he  had  a  laugh  that  wad  hae  raised 
the  dead  ! — What  wi'  flyting  on  him,  and  what  wi'  laugh- 
ing at  him,  there  was  nae  minding  ony  other  body  when 
that  Valentine  was  in  the  house. — And  how  is  your 
cousin,  Valentine  Bulmer,  Maister  Francie  ?  " 

Tyrrel  looked  down,  and  only  answered  with  a  sigh. 

"  Ay — and  is  it  even  sae  ?  "  said  Meg  ;  "  and  has  the 
puir  bairn  been  sae  soon  removed  frae  this  fashious 
warld  ? — Ay — ay — we  maun  a'  gang  ae  gate — crackit 
quart-stoups  and  geisen'd  barrels — leaky  quaighs  are  we 
a',  and  canna  keep  in  the  liquor  of  life — Ohon,  sirs  ! — 
Was  the  puir  lad  Bulmer  frae  Bu'mer  Bay,  where  they 
land  the  Hollands,  think  ye,  Maister  Francie  ? — They 
whiles  rin  in  a  pickle  tea  there  too — I  hope  that  is  good 
that  I  have  made  you,  Maister  Francie  ?  " 

"  Excellent,  my  good  dame,"  said  Tyrrel  ;  but  it  was 
in  a  tone  of  voice  which  intimated  that  she  had  pressed 
upon  a  subject  which  awakened  some  unpleasant  reflec- 
tions. 


ST.    ROSAX'S    WELL.  41 

"  And  when  did  this  puir  lad  die  ? "  continued  Meg, 
who  was  not  without  her  share  of  Eve's  qualities,  and 
wished  to  know  something  concerning  what  seemed  to 
affect  her  guest  so  particularly ;  but  he  disappointed  her 
purpose,  and  at  the  same  time  awakened  another  train 
of  sentiment  in  her  mind,  by  turning  again  to  the  window, 
and  looking  upon  the  distant  buildings  of  St.  Ronan's 
Well.  As  if  he  had  observed  for  the  first  time  these 
new  objects,  he  said  to  Mistress  Dods,  in  an  indifferent 
tone,  "  You  have  got  some  gay  new  neighbours  yonder, 
Mistress." 

"  Neighbours,"  said  Meg,  her  wrath  beginning  to  arise, 
as  it  always  did  upon  any  allusion  to  this  sore  subject — 
"  Ye  may  ca'  them  neighbours,  if  ye  like — but  the  deil 
flee  awa  wi'  the  neighbourhood  for  Mejj  Dods  !  " 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Tyrrel,  as  if  he  did  not  observe  her 
displeasure,  "  that  yonder  is  the  Fox  Hotel  they  told  me 
of?" 

;'  The  Fox  ! "  said  Meg ;  "lam  sure  it  is  the  fox  that 
has  carried  off  a'  my  geese. — I  might  shut  up  house, 
Maister  Francie,  if  it  was  the  thing  I  lived  by — me  that 
has  seen  a'  our  gentlefolks'  bairns,  and  gien  them  snaps 
and  sugar-biscuit  maist  of  them  wi'  my  ain  hand  !  They 
wad  hae  seen  my  father's  roof-tree  fa'  down  and  smoor 
me  before  they  wad  hae  gien  a  boddle  a-piece  to  have 
propped  it  up — but  they  could  a'  link  out  their  fifty 
pounds  ower  head  to  bigg  a  hottle  at  the  Well  yonder. 
And  muckle  they  hae  made  o't — the  bankrupt  body, 
Sandie  Lawson,  hasna  paid  them  a  bawbee  of  four  terms' 
rent." 

"  Surely,  mistress,  I  think  if  the  Well  became  so  fa- 
mous for  its  cures,  the  least  the  gentlemen  could  have 
done  was  to  make  you  the  priestess." 


42  WAVKRLEY    NOVELS. 

"  ZNIi*  priestess  !  I  am  nae  Quaker,  I  wot,  Maister 
Francie  ;  and  I  never  heard  of  alewif'e  that  turned 
preacher,  except  Luckie  Buchan  in  the  West.*  And  if 
I  were  to  preach,  I  think  I  have  mair  the  spirit  of  a 
Scott  ish  woman,  than  to  preach  in  the  very  room  they  hae 
been  dancing  in  ilka  night  in  the  week,  Saturday  itsell 
not  excepted,  and  that  till  twal  o'clock  at  night.  Na,  na, 
Maister  Francie ;  I  leave  the  like  o'  that  to  Mr.  Simon 
Chatterly,  as  they  ca'  the  bit  prelatical  sprig  of  divinity 
from  the  town  yonder,  that  plays  at  cards  and  dances  six 
days  in  the  week,  and  on  the  seventh  reads  the  Common 
Prayer-book  in  the  ball-room,  with  Tarn  Simson,  the 
drunken  barber,  for  his  clerk." 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  of  Mr.  Chatterly,"  said  Tyrrel. 

"  Ye'll  be  thinking  o'  the  sermon  he  has  printed,"  said 
the  angry  dame,  "  where  he  compares  their  nasty  puddle 
of  a  well  yonder  to  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  like  a  foul- 
mouthed,  fleeehing,  feather-headed  fule  as  he  is!  He 
should  hae  kend  that  the  place  got  a'  its  fame  in  the 
times  of  Black  Popery ;  and  though  they  pat  it  in  St. 
Ronan's  name,  I'll  never  believe  for  one  that  the  honest 
man  had  ony  hand  in  it ;  for  I  hae  been  tell'd  by  ane  that 
suld  ken,  that  he  was  nae  Roman,  but  only  a  Cuddie,  or 
Culdee,  or  such  like. — But  will  ye  not  take  anither  dish 
of  tea,  Maister  Francie  ?  and  a  wee  bit  of  the  diet-loaf, 
raised  wi'  my  ain  fresh  butter,  Maister  Francie  ?  and  no 
wi'  greasy  kitchen-fee,  like  the  seed  cake  down  at  the  con- 
fectioner's yonder,  that  has  as  mony  dead  flees  as  carvey 
in  it.  Set  him  up  for  confectioner !  Wi'  a  penniworth 
of  rye-meal,   and   anither  of  tryacle,  and   twa  or  three 

*  The  foundress  of  a  sect  called  Buchanites;  a  species  of  Joanna 
Southcote,  who  long  after  death  was  expected  to  return  and  head  her 
disciples  on  the  road  to  Jerusalem. 


ST.    EOMNS    "WELL.  43 

carvey-seeds,  I  will  make  better  confections  than  ever 
cam  out  of  his  oven." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  that,  Mrs.  Dods,"  said  the  guest ; 
"  and  I  only  wish  to  know  how  these  new  comers  were 
able  to  establish  themselves  against  a  house  of  such  good 
reputation  and  old  standing  as  yours  ? — It  was  the  virtues 
of  the  mineral,  I  daresay ;  but  how  came  the  waters  to 
recover  a  character  all  at  once,  mistress  ?  "    * 

"  I  dinna  ken,  sir — they  used  to  be  thought  good  for 
naething,  but  here  and  there  for  a  puir  body's  bairn,  that 
had  gotten  the  cruells,*  and  could  not  afford  a  penniworth 
of  salts.  But  my  Leddy  Penelope  Pen  feather  had  fa'an 
ill,  it's  like,  as  nae  other  body  ever  fell  ill,  and  sae  she 
was  to  be  cured  some  gate  naebody  was  ever  cured, 
which  was  naething  mair  than  was  reasonable — and  my 
leddy,  ye  ken,  has  wit  at  wull,  and  has  a'  the  wise  folk 
out  from  Edinburgh  at  her  house  at  Windywa's  yonder, 
which  it  is  her  leddyship's  will  and  pleasure  to  call  Air- 
castle — and  they  have  a'  their  different  turns,  and  some 
can  clink  verses,  wi'  their  tale,  as  weel  as  Rob  Burns  or 
Allan  Ramsay — and  some  rin  up  hill  and  down  dale, 
knapping  the  chucky  stanes  to  pieces  wi'  hammers,  like 
sae  mony  road-makers  run  daft — they  say  it  is  to  see 
how  the  warld  was  made  ! — and  some  that  play  on  all 
manner  of  ten-stringed  instruments — and  a  wheen  sketch- 
ing souls,  that  ye  may  see  perched  like  craws  on  every 
craig  in  the  country,  e'en  working  at  your  am  trade, 
Maister  Francie ;  forby  men  that  had  been  in  foreign 
parts,  or  said  they  had  been  there,  whilk  is  a'  ane,  ye 
ken,  and  maybe  twa  or  three  draggle-tailed  misses,  that 
wear  my  Leddy  Penelope's  follies  when  she  has  dune 
wi'  them,  as  her  queans  of  maids  wear  her  second-hand 
*  Esa-ouelks,  King's  Evil. 


44  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

claithes.  So,  after  her  leddyship's  happy  recovery,  as 
they  ca'd  it,  down  cam  the  hail  tribe  of  wild  geese,  and 
settled  by  the  Well,  to  dine  thereout  on  the  bare  grand, 
like  a  wheen  tinklers;  and  they  had  sangs,  and  tunes, 
and  healths,  nae  doubt,  in  praise  of  the  fountain,  as  they 
ca'd  the  Well,  and  of  Leddy  Penelope  Penfeather ;  and, 
lastly,  they  behoved  a'  to  take  a  solemn  bumper  of  the 
spring,  whieh,  as  I'm  tauld,  made  unco  havoc  amang 
them  or  they  wan  hame  ;  and  this  they  ca'd  Pieknick, 
and  a  plague  to  them  :  And  sae  the  jig  was  begun  after 
her  leddy  ship's  pipe,  and  mony  a  mad  measure  has  been 
danced  sin'  syne  ;  for  down  cam  masons  and  murgeon- 
makers,  and  preachers  and  player-folk,  and  Episcopalians, 
and  Methodists,  and  fools  and  tiddlers,  and  Papists  and 
pie-bakers,  and  doctors  and  dragsters  ;  by  the  shop-folk, 
that  sell  trash  and  trumpery  at  three  prices — and  so  up 
got  the  bonny  new  Well,  and  down  fell  the  honest  auld 
town  of  St.  Ronan's,  where  blythe  decent  folk  had  been 
heartsome  eneugh  for  mony  a  day  before  ony  o'  them 
were  born,  or  ony  sic  vapouring  fancies  kittled  in  their 
cracked  brains." 

"  What  said  your  landlord,  the  Laird  of  St.  Ronan's, 
to  all  this  ?  "  said  Tyrrel. 

"  Is't  my  landlord  ye  are  asking  after,  Maister  Fran- 
cie? — the  Laird  of  St.  Ronan's  is  nae  landlord  of  mine, 
and  I  think  ye  might  hae  minded  that. — Na,  na,  thanks 
be  to  Praise  !  Meg  Dods  is  baith  \andlord  and  land- 
leddy.  Ill  eneugh  to  keep  the  doors  open  as  it  is,  let  be 
facing  Whitsunday  and  Martinmas — an  auld  leather  pock 
there  is,  Maister  Francie,  in  ane  of  worthy  Maister  Bind- 
loose  the  sheriff-clerk's  pigeon-holes,  in  his  dowcot  of  a 
closet  in  the  burgh  ;  and  therein  is  baith  charter  and 
sasine,  and  special  service  to  boot ;  and  that  will  be  chap- 
ter and  verse,  speer  when  ye  list." 


ST.  ko.van's  well.  45 

"  I  had  quite  forgotten,"  said  Tyrrel,  /'  that  the  inn 
was  your  own  ;  though  I  remember  you  were  a  consider- 
able landed  proprietor." 

"Maybe  I  am,"  replied  Meg,  "  maybe  I  am  not ;  and 
if  I  be,  what  for  no  ? — But  as  to  what  the  Laird,  whose 
grandfather  was  my  father's  landlord,  said  to  the  new 
doings  yonder — he  just  jumped  at  the  ready  penny,  like 
a  cock  at  a  grossart,  and  feu'd  the  bonny  holm  beside  the 
Well,  that  they  ca'd  Saints- Well-holm,  that  was  like  the 
best  land  in  his  aught,  to  be  carved,  and  biggit,  and  how- 
kit  up,  just  at  the  pleasure  of  Jock  Ashler  the  stane- 
mason,  that  ca's  himsell  an  arkiteck — there's  nae  living 
for  new  words  in  this  new  warld  neither,  and  that  is 
another  vex  to  auld  folk  such  as  me. — It's  a  shame  o'  the 
young  Laird  to  let  his  auld  patrimony  gang  the  gate  it's 
like  to  gang,  and  my  heart  is  sair  to  see't,  though  it  has 
but  little  cause  to  care  what  comes  of  him  or  his." 

"  Is  it  the  same  Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  Mr.  Tyrrel,  "  who 
still  holds  the  estate  ? — the  old  gentleman,  you  know, 
whom  I  had  some  dispute  with  " 

"  About  hunting  moor-fowl  upon  the  Spring-well-head 
muirs?"  said  Meg.  "Ah,  lad!  honest  Maister  Bind- 
loose  brought  you  neatly  off  there — Na,  it's  no  that  honest 
man,  but  his  son  John  Mowbray — the  t'other  has  slept 
down-by  in  St.  Ronan's  Kirk  for  these  six  or  seven 
years." 

"  Did  he  leave,"  asked  Tyrrel,  with  something  of  a 
faltering  voice,  "  no  other  child  than  the  present  laird  ?  " 

"  No  other  son,"  said  Meg  ;  "  and  there's  e'en  eneugh, 
unless  he  could  have  left  a  better  ane." 

"  lie  died,  then,"  said  Tyrrel,  "  excepting  this  son, 
without  children  ?  " 

"  By  your  leave,  no,"  said  Meg  ;  "  there  is  the  lassie, 


46  "VVAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

Miss  Clam,  that  keeps  house,  for  the  laird,  if  it  can  be 
ca'd  keeping  house,  for  he  is  almost  aye  down  at  the 
"Well  yonder — so  a  sma'  kitchen  serves  them  at  the 
Shaws." 

"  Miss  Clara  will  have  but  a  dull  time  of  it  there 
during  her  brother's  absence,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Out  no  ! — he  has  her  aften  jinketing  about,  and  back 
and  forward,  wi'  a'  the  fine  flichtering  fools  that  come 
yonder  ;  and  clapping  palms  wi'  them,  and  linking  at 
their  dances  and  daffings.  I  wuss  nae  ill  come  o't,  but 
it's  a  shame  her  father's  daughter  should  keep  company 
wi'  a'  that  scaufF  and  raff  of  physic-students,  and  writers' 
prentices,  and  bagmen,  and  siclike  trash  as  are  down  at 
the  Well  yonder." 

"  You  are  severe,  Mrs.  Dods,"  replied  the  guest.  "  No 
doubt  Miss  Clara's  conduct  deserves  all  sort  of  free- 
dom." 

"  I  am  saying  naething  against  her  conduct,"  said  the 
dame  ;  "  and  there's  nae  ground  to  say  ony  thing  that  I 
ken  of — But  I  wad  hae  like  draw  to  like,  Maister  Fran- 
cie.  I  never  quarrelled  the  ball  that  the  gentry  used  to 
hae  at  my  bit  house  a  gude  wheen  years  bygane — when 
they  came,  the  auld  folk  in  their  coaches,  wi'  lang-tailed 
black  horses,  and  a  wheen  galliard  gallants  on  their  hunt- 
ing horses,  and  mony  a  decent  leddy  behind  her  ain  good- 
man,  and  mony  a  bonny  smirking  lassie  on  her  pownie, 
and  wha  sae  happy  as  they — And  what  for  no  ?  And 
then  there  was  the  farmers'  ball,  wi'  the  tight  lads  of 
yeomen  with  the  brank  new  blues  and  the  buckskins — 
These  were  decent  meetings — but  then  they  were  a'  ae 
man's  bairns  that  were  at  them,  ilk  ane  kend  ilk  other — 
they  danced  farmers  wi'  farmers'  daughters  at  the  tane, 
and  gentles  wi'  gentle  blood,  at  the  t'other,  unless  maybe 


ST.    RONAN'S    "WELL.  47 

when  some  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  Killnakelty  Club 
■would  gie  me  a  round  of  the  floor  mysell,  in  the  way  of 
daffing  and  fun,  and  me  no  able  to  flyte  on  them  for 
lau°-hin°- — I  am  sure  I  never  grudged  these  innocent 
pleasures,  although  it  has  cost  me  maybe  a  week's  redding 
up,  ere  I  got  the  better  of  the  confusion." 

"  But,  dame,"  said  Tyrrel,  "  this  ceremonial  would  be 
a  little  hard  upon  strangers  like  myself,  for  how  were 
we  to  find  partners  in  these  family  parties  of  yours?" 

"  Never  you  fash  your  thumb  about  that,  Maister 
Francie,"  returned  the  landlady,  with  a  knowing  wink. — 
"  Every  Jack  will  find  a  Jill,  gang  the  world  as  it  may — 
and,  at  the  warst  o't,  better  hae  some  fashery  in  finding  a 
partner  for  the  night,  than  get  yoked  with  ane  that  you 
may  not  be  ahle  to  shake  off  the  morn." 

"  And  does  that  sometimes  happen  ? "  asked  the 
stranger. 

"  Happen  ! — and  it's  amang  the  Well  folk  that  ye 
mean  ? "  exclaimed  the  hostess.  "  Was  it  not  the  last 
season,  as  they  ca't,  no  farther  gane,  that  young  Sir  Bingo 
Binks,  the  English  lad  wi'  the  red  coat,  that  keeps  a  mail- 
coach,  and  drives  it  himsell,  gat  cleekit  with  Miss  Rachel 
Bonnyrigg,  the  auld  Leddy  Loupengirth's  lang-legged 
daughter — and  they  danced  sae  lang  thegither,  that  there 
was  mair  said  than  suld  hae  been  said  about  it — and  the 
lad  would  fain  have  louped  back,  but  the  auld  leddy  held 
him  to  his  tackle,  and  the  Commissary  Court  and  some- 
body else  made  her  Leddy  Binks  in  spite  of  Sir  Bingo's 
heart — and  he  has  never  daured  take  her  to  his  friends  in 
England,  but  they  have  just  wintered  and  summered  it  at 
the  Well  ever  since — and  that  is  what  the  Well  is  good 
for  ! " 

"  And  does  Clara, — I  mean  does  Miss  Mowhray,  keep 


48  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

company  with  such  women  as  these  ?  "  said  Tyrrel,  with 
a  tone  of  interest  which  he  checked  as  he  proceeded  witli 
the  question. 

"  What  can  she  do,  puir  thing  ?  "  said  the  dame.  "  She 
maun  keep  the  company  that  her  brother  keeps,  for  she 
is  clearly  dependent. — But,  speaking  of  that,  I  ken  what 
1  have  to  do,  and  that  is  no  little,  before  it  darkens.  I 
have  sat  clavering  with  you  ower  lang,  Maister  Francie." 

And  away  she  marched  with  a  resolved  step,  and  soon 
the  clear  octaves  of  her  voice  were  heard  in  shrill  admc 
nition  to  her  handmaidens. 

Tyrrel  paused  a  moment  in  deep  thought,  then  took 
his  hat,  paid  a  visit  to  the  stable,  where  his  horse  saluted 
him  with  feathering  ears,  and  that  low  amicable  neigh, 
with  which  that  animal  acknowledges  the  approach  of  a 
loving  and  beloved  friend.  Having  seen  that  the  faith- 
ful creature  was  in  every  respect  attended  to,  Tyrrel 
availed  himself  of  the  continued  and  lingering  twilight, 
to  visit  the  old  castle,  which,  upon  former  occasions,  had 
been  his  favourite  evening  walk.  He  remained  while  the 
light  permitted,  admiring  the  prospect  we  attempted  to 
describe  in  the  first  chapter,  and  comparing,  as  in  his 
former  reverie,  the  faded  hues  of  the  glimmering  land- 
scape to  those  of  human  life,  when  early  youth  and  hope 
had  ceased  to  gild  them. 

A  brisk  walk  to  the  inn,  and  a  light  supper  on  a  Welsh 
rabbit  and  the  dame's  home-brewed,  were  stimulants  of 
livelier,  at  least  more  resigned  thoughts — and  the  Blue 
bedroom,  to  the  honours  of  which  he  had  been  promoted, 
received  him  a  contented,  if  not  a  cheerful  tenant. 


ST.  ronan's  well.  49 


CHAPTER  III. 

ADMINISTRATION. 

There  must  be  government  in  all  society — 
Bees  have  their  Queen,  and  stag  herds  have  their  leader ; 
Rome  had  her  Consuls,  Athens  had  her  Archons, 
And  we,  sir,  have  our  Managing  Committee. 

The  Albdm  of  St.  Ronan's. 

Francis  Tyrrel  was,  in  the  course  of  the  next  day, 
formally  settled  in  his  own  old  quarters,  where  he  an- 
nounced his  purpose  of  remaining  for  several  days.  The 
old-established  carrier  of  the  place  brought  his  fishing-rod 
and  travelling-trunk,  with  a  letter  to  Meg,  dated  a  week 
previously,  desiring  her  to  prepare  to  receive  an  old  ac- 
quaintance. This  annunciation,  though  something  of  the 
latest,  Meg  received  with  great  complacency,  observing, 
it  was  a  civil  attention  in  Maister  Tirl ;  and  that  John 
Hislop,  though  he  was  not  just  sae  fast,  was  far  surer 
than  ony  post  of  them  a',  or  express  either.  She  also 
observed  with  satisfaction,  that  there  was  no  gun-case 
along  with  her  guest's  baggage  ;  "  for  that  weary  gunning 
had  brought  him  and  her  into  trouble — the  lairds  had 
cried  out  upon't,  as  if  she  made  her  house  a  howff  for 
common  fowlers  and  poachers ;  and  yet  how  could  she 
hinder  twa  daft  hempie  callants  from  taking  a  start  and 

VOL.   XXXIII.  4 


50  "WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

an  ower-loup  ?  *  They  had  been  ower  the  neighbour's 
ground  they  had  leave  on  up  to  the  inarch,  and  they 
werena  just  to  ken  meiths  when  the  moorfowl  got  up." 

In  a  day  or  two,  her  guest  fell  into  such  quiet  and 
solitary  habits,  that  Meg,  herself  the  most  restless  and 
bustling  of  human  creatures,  began  to  be  vexed,  for  want 
of  the  trouble  which  she  expected  to  have  had  with  him, 
experiencing,  perhaps,  the  same  sort  of  feeling  from  his 
extreme  and  passive  indifference  on  all  points,  that  a  good 
horseman  has  for  the  over-patient  steed,  which  he  can 
scarce  feel  under  him.  His  walks  were  devoted  to  the 
most  solitary  recesses  among  the  neighbouring  woods  and 
hills — his  fishing-rod  was  often  left  behind  him,  or 
carried  merely  as  an  apology  for  sauntering  slowly  by 
the  banks  of  some  little  brooklet — and  his  success  so 
indifferent,  that  Meg  said  the  piper  of  Peebles  f  would 
have  caught  a  creelfu'  before  Maister  Francie  had  made 
out  the  half-dozen ;  so  that  he  was  obliged,  for  peace's 
sake,  to  vindicate  his  character,  by  killing  a  handsome 
salmon. 

Tyrrel's  painting,  as  Meg  called  it,  went  on  equally 
slowly :  He  often,  indeed,  showed  her  the  sketches  which 
he  brought  from  his  walks,  and  used  to  finish  at  home  ; 
but  Meg  held  them  very  cheap.  What  signified,  she 
said,  a  wheen  bits  of  paper,  wi'  black  and  white  scarts 
upon  them,  that  he  ca'd  bushes,  and  trees,  and  craigs  ? — ■ 
Couldna  he  paint  them  wi'  green,  and  blue,  and  yellow, 
like  the  other  folk  ?  "  Ye  will  never  mak  your  bread 
that  way,  Maister  Francie.  Ye  suld  munt  up  a  muckle 
square    of   canvas,    like    Dick    Tinto,    and    paint   folk's 

*  The  usual  expression  for  a  slight  encroachment  on  a  neighbour's 
property. 

t  The  said  piper  was  famous  at  the  mystery. 


ST.  roxan's  well.  51 

ainsells,  that  they  like  muckle  better  to  see  than  ony 
craig  in  the  haill  water  ;  and  I  wadna  muckle  objeck 
even  to  some  of  the  Wallers  coming  up  and  sitting  to  ye. 
They  waste  their  time  waur,  I  wis — and,  I  warrant,  ye 
might  mak  a  guinea  a-head  of  them.  Dick  made  twa 
but  he  was  an  auld  used  hand,  and  folk  maun  creep 
before  they  gang." 

In  answer  to  these  remonstrances,  Tyrrel  assured  her, 
that  the  sketches  with  which  he  busied  himself  were  held 
of  such  considerable  value,  that  very  often  an  artist  in 
that  line  received  much  higher  remuneration  for  these, 
than  for  portraits  or  coloured  drawings.  He  added,  that 
they  were  often  taken  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating 
popular  poems,  and  hinted  as  if  he  himself  were  engaged 
in  some  labour  of  that  nature. 

Eagerly  did  Meg  long  to  pour  forth  to  Nelly  Trotter, 
the  fish-woman, — whose  cart  formed  the  only  neutral 
channel  of  communication  between  the  Auld  Town  and 
the  Well,  and  who  was  in  favour  with  Meg,  because,  as 
Nelly  passed  her  door  in  her  way  to  the  Well,  she  always 
had  the  first  choice  of  her  fish, — the  merits  of  her  lodger 
as  an  artist.  Luckie  Dods  had,  in  truth,  been  so  much 
annoyed  and  bullied,  as  it  were,  with  the  report  of  clever 
persons,  accomplished  in  all  sorts  of  excellence,  arriving 
day  after  day  at  the  Hotel,  that  she  was  overjoyed  in  this 
fortunate  opportunity  to  triumph  over  them  in  their  own 
way ;  and  it  may  be  believed,  that  the  excellences  of  her 
lodger  lost  nothing  by  being  trumpeted  through  her 
mouth. 

"  I  maun  hae  the  best  of  the  cart,  Nelly — if  you  and 
me  can  gree — for  it  is  for  ane  of  the  best  of  painters. 
Your  fine  folk  down  yonder  would  gie  their  lugs  to  look 
at  what  he  has  been  doing — he  gets  gowd  in  goupins,  for 


52  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

throe  downright  scarts  and  three  cross  anes — And  he  is 
no  an  ungrateful  loon,  like  Dick  Tinto,  that  had  nae 
sooner  my  good  five-and-twenty  shillings  in  his  pocket, 
than  he  gaed  down  to  birl  it  awa  at  their  bonny  hottle 
yonder,  but  a  decent  quiet  lad,  that  kens  when  he  is  weel 
aff,  and  bides  still  at  the  auld  howff — And  what  for  no  ? 
— Tell  them  all  this,  and  hear  what  they  will  say  till't." 

"  Indeed,  mistress,  I  can  tell  ye  that  already,  without 
stirring  my  shanks  for  the  matter,"  answered  Nelly 
Trotter ;  "  they  will  e'en  say  that  ye  are  ae  auld  fule, 
and  me  anither,  that  may  hae  some  judgment  in  cock- 
bree  or  in  scate-rumples,  but  maunna  fash  our  beards 
about  ony  thing  else." 

"  Wad  they  say  sae,  the  frontless  villains  ?  and  me 
been  a  housekeeper  this  thirty  year  ! "  exclaimed  Meg  ; 
"  I  wadna  hae  them  say  it  to  my  face !  But  I  am  no 
speaking  without  warrant — for  what  an  I  had  spoken  to 
the  minister,  lass,  and  shown  him  ane  of  the  loose  scarts 
of  paper  that  Maister  Tirl  leaves  fleeing  about  his  room  ? 
— and  what  an  he  had  said  he  had  kend  Lord  Bidmore 
gie  five  guineas  for  the  waur  on't?  and  a'  the  warld  kens 
he  was  lang  tutor  in  the  Bidmore  family." 

"  Troth,"  answered  her  gossip,  "  I  doubt  if  I  was  to 
tell  a'  this  they  would  hardly  believe  me,  mistress  ;  for 
there  are  sae  mony  judges  amang  them,  and  they  think 
sae  muckle  of  themsells,  and  sae  little  of  other  folk,  that 
unless  ye  were  to  send  down  the  bit  picture,  I  am  no 
thinking  they  will  believe  a  word  that  I  can  tell 
them." 

"  No  believe  what  an  honest  woman  says — let  abee  to 
say  twa  o'  them  ?  "  exclaimed  Meg ;  "  O  the  unbeliev- 
ing generation  ! — Weel,  Nelly,  since  my  back  is  up,  ye 
sail  tak  down  the  picture,  or  sketching,  or  whatever  it 


ST.  ronan's  well.  53 

is,  (though  I  thought  sketchers  *  were  aye  made  of  aim,) 
and  shame  wi'  it  the  conceited  crew  that  they  are. — But 
see  and  bring't  back  wi'  ye  again,  Nelly,  for  it's  a  thing 
of  value  ;  and  trustna  it  out  o'  your  hand,  that  I  charge 
you,  for  I  lippen  no  muckle  to  their  honesty. — And 
Nelly,  ye  may  tell  them  he  has  an  illustrated  poem — 
illustrated — mind  the  word,  Nelly — that  is  to  be  stuck  as 
fou  o'  the  like  o'  that,  as  ever  turkey  was  larded  wi' 
dabs  o'  bacon." 

Thus  furnished  with  her  credentials,  and  acting  the 
part  of  a  herald  betwixt  two  hostile  countries,  honest 
Nelly  switched  her  little  fish-cart  downwards  to  St. 
Ronan's  Well. 

In  watering-places,  as  in  other  congregated  assemblies 
of  the  human  species,  various  kinds  of  government  have 
been  dictated,  by  chance,  caprice,  or  convenience ;  but 
in  almost  all  of  them,  some  sort  of  direction  has  been 
adopted,  to  prevent  the  consequences  of  anarchy.  Some- 
times the  sole  power  has  been  vested  in  a  Master  of  Cere- 
monies ;  but  this,  like  other  despotisms,  has  been  of  late 
unfashionable,  and  the  powers  of  this  great  officer  have 
been  much  limited  even  at  Bath,  where  Nash  once  ruled 
with  undisputed  supremacy.  Committees  of  manage- 
ment, chosen  from  among  the  most  steady  guests,  have 
been  in  general  resorted  to  as  a  more  liberal  mode  of 
sway,  and  to  such  was  confided  the  administration  of  the 
infant  republic  of  St.  Ronan's  Well.  This  little  senate, 
it  must  be  observed,  had  the  more  difficult  task  in  dis- 
charging their  high  duties,  that,  like  those  of  other  repub- 
lics, their  subjects  were  divided  into  two  jarring  and 
contending  factions,  who  every  day  eat,  drank,  danced, 
and  made  merry  together,  hating  each  other  all  the  while 
*  Skates  are  called  sketchers  in  Scotland. 


54  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

with  all  the  animosity  of  political  party,  endeavouring, 
by  every  art,  to  secure  the  adherence  of  each  guest  who 
arrived,  and  ridiculing  the  absurdities  and  follies  of  each 
other,  with  all  the  wit  and  bitterness  of  which  they  were 
masters. 

At  the  head  of  one  of  these  parties  was  no  less  a  per- 
sonage than  Lady  Penelope  Penfeather,  to  whom  the 
establishment  owed  its  fame,  nay,  its  existence;  and 
whose  influence  could  only  have  been  balanced  by  that 
of  the  Lord  of  the  Manor,  Mr.  Mowbray  of  St.  Ronan's, 
or,  as  he  was  called  usually  by  the  company  who  affected 
what  Meg  called  knapping  English,  The  Squire,  who  was 
leader  of  the  opposite  faction. 

The  rank  and  fortune  of  the  lady,  her  pretensions  to 
beauty  as  well  as  talent,  (though  the  former  was  some- 
thing faded,)  and  the  consequence  which  she  arrogated 
to  herself  as  a  woman  of  fashion,  drew  round  her  paint- 
ers, and  poets,  and  philosophers,  and  men  of  science,  and 
lecturers,  and  foreign  adventurers,  et  hoc  genus  omne. 

On  the  contrary,  the  Squire's  influence,  as  a  man  of 
family  and  property  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood, 
who  actually  kept  greyhounds  and  pointers,  and  at  least 
talked  of  hunters  and  of  racers,  ascertained  him  the  sup- 
port of  the  whole  class  of  bucks,  half  and  whole  bred, 
from  the  three  next  counties ;  and  if  more  inducements 
were  wanting,  he  could  grant  his  favourites  the  privilege 
of  shooting  over  his  moors,  which  is  enough  to  turn  the 
head  of  a  young  Scottishman  at  any  time.  Mr.  Mowbray 
was  of  late  especially  supported  in  his  preeminence,  by  a 
close  alliance  with  Sir  Bingo  Binks,  a  sapient  English 
Baronet,  who,  ashamed,  as  many  thought,  to  return  to 
his  own  country,  had  set  him  down  at  the  well  of  St. 
Ronan's,  to  enjoy  the  blessing  which  the  Caledonian  Hy- 


ST.    RONAJJ'S    WELL.  55 

men  had  so  kindly  forced  on  him,  in  the  person  of  Miss 
Rachel  Bonnyrigg.  As  this  gentleman  actually  drove  a 
regular-built  mail-coach,  not  in  any  respect  differing  from 
that  of  his  Majesty,  only  that  it  was  more  frequently  over- 
turned, his  influence  with  a  certain  set  was  irresistible, 
and  the  Squire  of  St.  Ronan's,  having  the  better  sense 
of  the  two,  contrived  to  reap  the  full  benefit  of  the  con- 
sequence attached  to  his  friendship. 

These  two  contending  parties  were  so  equally  bal- 
anced, that  the  predominance  of  the  influence  of  either 
was  often  determined  by  the  course  of  the  sun.  Thus, 
in  the  morning  and  forenoon,  when  Lady  Penelope  led 
forth  her  herd  to  lawn  and  shady  bower,  whether  to  visit 
some  ruined  monument  of  ancient  times,  or  eat  their  pic- 
nic luncheon,  to  spoil  good  paper  with  bad  drawings,  and 
good  verses  with  repetition — in  a  word, 

"  To  rave,  recite,  and  madden  round  the  land," 

her  ladyship's  empire  over  the  loungers  seemed  uncon- 
trolled and  absolute,  and  all  things  were  engaged  in  the 
tourbillon,  of  which  she  formed  the  pivot  and  centre. 
Even  the  hunters,  and  shooters,  and  hard  drinkers,  were 
sometimes  fain  reluctantly  to  follow  in  her  train,  sulking, 
and  quizzing,  and  flouting  at  her  solemn  festivals,  be- 
sides encouraging  the  younger  nymphs  to  giggle  when 
they  should  have  looked  sentimental.  But  after  dinner 
the  scene  was  changed,  and  her  ladyship's  sweetest 
smiles,  and  softest  invitations,  were  often  insufficient  to 
draw  the  neutral  part  of  the  company  to  the  tea-room  ; 
so  that  her  society  was  reduced  to  those  whose  constitu- 
tion or  finances  rendered  early  retirement  from  the  din- 
ing parlour  a  matter  of  convenience,  together  with  the 
more  devoted  and  zealous  of  her  own  immediate  depend- 


56  AVAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

ents  and  adherents.  Even  the  faith  of  the  latter  was 
apt  to  be  debauched.  Her  ladyship's  poet-laureate,  in 
whose  behalf  she  was  teasing  each  new-comer  for  sub- 
scriptions, got  sufficiently  independent  to  sing  in  her 
ladyship's  presence,  at  supper,  a  song  of  rather  equivocal 
meaning ;  and  her  chief  painter,  who  was  employed  upon 
an  illustrated  copy  of  the  Loves  of  the  Plants,  was,  at 
another  time,  seduced  into  such  a  state  of  pot-valour, 
that,  upon  her  ladyship's  administering  her  usual  dose  of 
criticism  upon  his  works,  he  not  only  bluntly  disputed 
her  judgment,  but  talked  something  of  his  right  to  be 
treated  like  a  gentleman. 

These  feuds  were  taken  up  by  the  Managing  Commit- 
tee, who  interceded  for  the  penitent  offenders  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  and  obtained  their  reestablishment  in 
Lady  Penelope's  good  graces  upon  moderate  terms. 
Many  other  acts  of  moderating  authority  they  performed, 
much  to  the  assuaging  of  faction,  and  the  quiet  of  the 
Wellers;  and  so  essential  was  their  government  to  the 
prosperity  of  the  place,  that,  without  them,  St.  Ronan's 
spring  would  probably  have  been  speedily  deserted.  We 
must,  therefore,  give  a  brief  sketch  of  that  potential 
Committee,  which  both  factions,  acting  as  if  on  a  self- 
denying  ordinance,  had  combined  to  invest  with  the  reins 
of  government. 

Each  of  its  members  appeared  to  be  selected,  as  For- 
tunio,  in  the  fairy-tale,  chose  his  followers,  for  his  pe- 
culiar gifts.  First  on  the  list  stood  the  Man  of  Medi- 
cine, Dr.  Quentin  Quackleben,  who  claimed  right  to 
regulate  medical  matters  at  the  spring,  upon  the  principle 
which,  of  old,  assigned  the  property  of  a  newly-discov- 
ered country  to  the  buccanier  who  committed  the  earliest 
piracy  on  its  shores.     The  acknowledgment  of  the  Doc- 


ST.    RONAX'S    WELL.  57 

tor's  merit,  as  having  been  first  to  proclaim  and  vindicate 
the  merits  of  these  healing  fountains,  had  occasioned  his 
being  universally  installed  First  Physician  and  Man  of 
Science,  which  last  qualification  he  could  apply  to  all 
purposes,  from  the  boiling  of  an  egg  to  the  giving  a  lec- 
ture. He  was,  indeed,  qualified,  like  many  of  his  profes- 
sion, to  spread  both  the  bane  and  antidote  before  a  dys- 
peptic patient,  being  as  knowing  a  gastronome  as  Dr 
Redgill  himself,  or  any  other  worthy  physician  who  has 
written  for  the  benefit  of  the  cuisine,  from  Dr.  Moncrieff 
of  Tippermalloch,  to  the  late  Dr.  Hunter  of  York,  and 
the  present  Dr.  Kitchiner  of  London.  But  pluralities 
are  always  invidious,  and  therefore  the  Doctor  prudently 
relinquished  the  office  of  caterer  and  head-carver  to  the 
Man  of  Taste,  who  occupied  regularly,  and  ex  officio, 
the  head  of  the  table,  reserving  to  himself  the  occasional 
privilege  of  criticising,  and  a  principal  share  in  consum- 
ing, the  good  things  which  the  common  entertainment 
afforded.  We  have  only  to  sum  up  this  brief  account  of 
the  learned  Doctor,  by  informing  the  reader,  that  he  was 
a  tall,  lean,  beetlebrowed  man,  with  an  ill-made  black 
scratch-wig,  that  stared  out  on  either  side  from  his  lan- 
tern jaws.  He  resided  nine  months  out  of  the  twelve  at 
St.  Ronan's,  and  was  supposed  to  make  an  indifferent 
good  thing  of  it,  especially  as  he  played  whist  to  admira- 
tion. 

First  in  place,  though  perhaps  second  to  the  Doctor  in 
real  authority,  was  Mr.  Winterblossom  ;  a  civil  sort  of 
person,  who  was  nicely  precise  in  his  address,  wore  his 
hair  cued,  and  dressed  with  powder,  had  knee-buckles 
set  with  Bristol  stones,  and  a  seal-ring  as  large  as  Sir 
John  Falstaff's.  In  his  heyday  he  had  a  small  estate, 
which  he  had  spent  like  a  gentleman,  by  mixing  with  the 


58  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

gay  world.  ITe  was,  in  short,  one  of  those  respectable 
links  that  connect  the  coxcombs  of  the  present  day  with 
those  of  the  last  age,  and  could  compare,  in  his  own  ex- 
perience, the  follies  of  both.  In  latter  days,  he  had 
sense  enough  to  extricate  himself  from  his  course  of  dis- 
sipation, though  with  impaired  health  and  impoverished 
fortune. 

Mr.  Winterblossom  now  lived  upon  a  moderate  annuity, 
and  had  discovered   a  way   of  reconciling  his   economy 
with  much  company  and  made  dishes,  by  acting  as  per- 
petual president  of  the   table-d'hote  at  the  Well.     Here 
he   used  to   amuse  the  society   by  telling  stories  about 
Garriek,  Foote,  Bonnel  Thornton,  and  Lord  Kelly,  and 
delivering  his  opinions  in  matters  of  taste  and  vertu.    An 
excellent  carver,  he  knew  how  to  help  each  guest  to  what 
was  precisely  his   due ;    and  never  failed  to   reserve  a 
proper  slice  as  the  reward  of  his  own  labours.     To  con- 
clude, he  was  possessed  of  some  taste  in  the  fine  arts,  at 
least  in  painting  and  music,  although  it  was  rather  of  the 
technical   kind,   than    that  which  warms    the    heart  and 
elevates  the  feelings.     There  was  indeed,  about  Winter- 
blossom,  nothing  that  was  either  warm  or  elevated.     He 
was  shrewd,  selfish,  and  sensual ;  the   last  two  of  which 
qualities  he  screened  from  observation,  under  a  specious 
varnish  of  exterior  complaisance.     Therefore,  in  his  pro- 
fessed and   apparent  anxiety  to  do  the  honours   of  the 
table,  to  the  most  punctilious  point  of  good  breeding,  he 
never  permitted  the  attendants  upon  the  public  taste   to 
supply    the  wants   of  others,  until   all  his   own   private 
comforts  had  been  fully  arranged  and  provided  for. 

Mr.  Winterblossom  was  also  distinguished  for  possess- 
ing a  few  curious  engravings,  and  other  specimens  of  art, 
with  the  exhibition  of  which  he  occasionally  beguiled  a 


ST.  ronan's  well.  59 

wet  morning  at  the  public  room.  They  were  collected, 
" viis  et  modis"  said  the  Man  of  Law,  another  distin- 
guished member  of  the  Committee,  with  a  knowing  cock 
of  his  eye  to  his  next  neighbour. 

Of  this-  person  little  need  be  said.  He  was  a  large- 
boned,  loud-voiced,  red-faced  old  man,  named  Meikle- 
wham ;  a  country  writer,  or  attorney,  who  managed  the 
matters  of  the  Squire  much  to  the  profit  of  one  or  other, 
— if  not  of  both.  His  nose  projected  from  the  front  of 
his  broad  vulgar  face,  like  the  style  of  an  old  sun-dial, 
twisted  all  of  one  side.  He  was  as  great  a  bully  in  his 
profession,  as  if  it  had  been  military  instead  of  civil ;  con- 
ducted the  whole  technicalities  concerning  the  cutting  "up 
the  Saint's-Well-haugh,  so  much  lamented  by  Dame  Dods, 
into  building-stances,  and  was  on  excellent  terras  with 
Doctor  Quackleben,  who  always  recommended  him  to 
make  the  wills  of  his  patients. 

After  the  Man  of  Law  comes  Captain  Mungo  Mac- 
Turk,  a  Highland  lieutenant  on  half-pay,  and  that  of 
ancient  standing  ;  one  who  preferred  toddy  of  the  strongest 
to  wine,  and  in  that  fashion  and  cold  drams  finished  about 
a  bottle  of  whisky  per  diem,  whenever  he  could  come  by 
it.  He  was  called  the  Man  of  Peace,  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple which  assigns  to  constables,  Bow-street  runners, 
and  such  like,  who  carry  bludgeons  to  break  folk's  heads, 
and  are  perpetually  and  officially  employed  in  scenes  of 
riot,  the  title  of  peace-officers — that  is,  because  by  his 
valour  he  compelled  others  to  act  with  discretion.  The 
Captain  was  the  general  referee  in  all  those  abortive 
quarrels,  which,  at  a  place  of  this  kind,  are  so  apt  to 
occur  at  night,  and  to  be  quietly  settled  in  the  morning; 
and  occasionally  adopted  a  quarrel  himself,  by  way  of 
taking  down   any  guest  who  was  unusually  pugnacious. 


60  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

This  occupation  procured  Captain  MacTurk  a  good  deal 
of  respect  at  the  Well ;  for  he  was  precisely  that  sort  of 
person  who  is  ready  to  fight  with  any  one — whom  no  one 
can  find  an  apology  for  declining  to  fight  with, — in  fight- 
ing with  whom  considerable  danger  was  incurred,  for  he 
was  ever  and  anon  showing  that  he  could  snuff  a  candle 
with  a  pistol-ball, — and  lastly,  through  fighting  with  whom 
no  eclat  or  credit  could  redound  to  the  antagonist.  He 
always  wore  a  blue  coat  and  red  collar,  had  a  supercilious 
taciturnity  of  manner,  ate  sliced  leeks  with  his  cheese, 
and  resembled  in  complexion  a  Dutch  red-herring. 

Still  remains  to  be  mentioned  the  Man  of  Religion — 
the  gentle  Mr.  Simon  Chatterly,  who  had  strayed  to  St. 
Ronan's  Well  from  the  banks  of  Cam  or  Isis,  and  who 
piqued  himself,  first  on  his  Greek,  and  secondly,  on  his 
politeness  to  the  ladies.  During  all  the  week  days,  as 
Dame  Dods  has  already  hinted,  this  reverend  gentleman 
was  the  partner  at  the  whist-table,  or  in  the  ball-room,  to 
what  maid  or  matron  soever  lacked  a  partner  at  either  ; 
and  on  the  Sundays,  he  read  prayers  in  the  public  room 
to  all  who  chose  to  attend.  He  was  also  a  deviser  of 
charades,  and  an  unriddler  of  riddles  ;  he  played  a  little 
on  the  flute,  and  was  Mr.  Winterblossom's  principal 
assistant  in  contriving  those  ingenious  and  romantic 
paths,  by  which,  as  by  the  zig-zags  which  connect  mili- 
tary parallels,  you  were  enabled  to  ascend  to  the  top  of 
the  hill  behind  the  hotel,  which  commands  so  beautiful  a 
prospect,  at  exactly  that  precise  angle  of  ascent,  which 
entitles  a  gentleman  to  offer  his  arm,  and  a  lady  to  accept 
it,  with  perfect  propriety. 

There  was  yet  another  member  of  this  Select  Com- 
mittee, Mr.  Michael  Meredith,  who  might  be  termed  the 
Man  of  Mirth,  or,  if  you  please,  the  Jack  Pudding  to  the 


ST.    ROMAN'S    "WELL.  61 

company,  whose  business  it  was  to  crack  the  best  joke, 
and  sing  the  best  song — he  could.  Unluckily,  however, 
this  functionary  was  for  the  present  obliged  to  absent 
himself  from  St.  Ronan's ;  for,  not  recollecting  that  he 
did  not  actually  wear  the  privileged  motley  of  his  pro- 
fession, he  had  passed  some  jest  upon  Captain  MacTurk, 
which  cut  so  much  to  the  quick,  that  Mr.  Meredith  was 
fain  to  go  to  goat-whey  quarters,  at  some  ten  miles'  dis- 
tance, and  remain  there  in  a  sort  of  concealment,  until 
the  affair  should  be  made  up  through  the  mediation  of 
his  brethren  of  the  Committee. 

Such  were  the  honest  gentlemen  who  managed  the 
affairs  of  this  rising  settlement,  with  as  much  impartiality 
as  could  be  expected.  They  were  not  indeed  without 
their  own  secret  predilections ;  for  the  lawyer  and  the 
soldier  privately  inclined  to  the  party  of  the  Squire, 
while  the  parson,  Mr.  Meredith,  and  Mr.  Winterblossom, 
were  more  devoted  to  the  interests  of  Lady  Penelope  ;  so 
that  Doctor  Quackleben  alone,  who  probably  recollected 
that  the  gentlemen  were  as  liable  to  stomach  complaints, 
as  the  ladies  to  nervous  disorders,  seemed  the  only  person 
who  preserved  in  word  and  deed  the  most  rigid  neu- 
trality. Nevertheless,  the  interests  of  the  establishment 
being  very  much  at  the  heart  of  this  honourable  council, 
and  each  feeling  his  own  profit,  pleasure,  or  comfort  in 
some  degree  involved,  they  suffered  not  their  private 
affections  to  interfere  with  their  public  duties,  but  acted 
every  one  in  his  own  sphere,  for  the  public  benefit  of  the 
whole  community. 


62  AVAVERLEY   NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    INVITATION. 

Thus  painters  write  their  names  at  Co. 


Prior. 


The  clamour  which  attends  the  removal  of  dinner  from 
a  public  room  had  subsided ;  the  clatter  of  plates,  and 
knives,  and  forks — the  bustling  tread  of  awkward  boobies 
of  country  servants,  kicking  each  other's  shins,  and 
wrangling  as  they  endeavour  to  rush  out  of  the  door 
three  abreast — the  clash  of  glasses  and  tumblers,  borne 
to  earth  in  the  tumult — the  shrieks  of  the  landlady — the 
curses,  not  loud,  but  deep,  of  the  landlord — had  all 
passed  away;  and  those  of  the  company  who  had  ser- 
vants had  been  accommodated  by  their  respective  Gany- 
medes  with  such  remnants  of  their  respective  bottles  of 
wine,  spirits,  &c,  as  the  said  Ganymedes  had  not  pre- 
viously consumed,  while  the  rest,  broken  in  to  such 
observance  by  Mr.  Winterblossom,  waited  patiently  until 
the  worthy  president's  own  special  and  multifarious  com- 
missions had  been  executed  by  a  tidy  young  woman  and 
a  lumpish  lad,  the  regular  attendants  belonging  to  the 
house,  but  whom  he  permitted  to  wait  on  no  one,  till,  as 
the  hymn  says, 

"  All  his  wants  were  well  supplied." 


ST.  ronan's  well.  G3 

"  And,  Dinah — my  bottle  of  pale  sherry,  Dinah — ■ 
place  it  on  this  side — there  is  a  good  girl ; — and,  Toby — 
get  my  jug  with  the  hot  water — and  let  it  be  boiling — 
and  don't  spill  it  on  Lady  Penelope,  if  you  can  help  it, 
Toby." 

"  No — for  her  ladyship  has  been  in  hot  water  to-day 
already,"  said  the  Squire  ;  a  sarcasm  to  which  Lady 
Penelope  only  replied  with  a  look  of  contempt. 

"And,  Dinah,  bring  the  sugar — the  soft  East  India 
sugar,  Dinah — and  a  lemon,  Dinah,  one  of  those  which 
came  fresh  to-day — Go  fetch  it  from  the  bar,  Toby — and 
don't  tumble  down  stairs,  if  you  can  help  it. — And,  Dinah 
— stay,  Dinah — the  nutmeg,  Dinah,  and  the  ginger,  my 
good  girl — And,  Dinah — put  the  cushion  up  behind  my 
back — and  the  footstool  to  my  foot,  for  my  toe  is  some- 
thing the  worse  of  my  walk  with  your  ladyship  this 
morning  to  the  top  of  Belvidere." 

"  Her  ladyship  may  call  it  what  she  pleases  in  common 
parlance,"  said  the  writer ;  "  but  it  must  stand  Munt- 
grunzie  in  the  stamped  paper,  being  so  nominated  in  the 
ancient  writs  and  evidents  thereof." 

"And,  Dinah,"  continued  the  president,  "lift  up  my 
handkerchief — and — a  bit  of  biscuit,  Dinah — and — and  I 
do  not  think  I  want  any  thing  else — look  to  the  company, 
my  good  girl. — I  have  the  honour  to  drink  the  company's 
very  good  health — Will  your  ladyship  honour  me  by  ac- 
cepting a  glass  of  negus  ? — I  learned  to  make  negus  from 
old  Dartineuf 's  son. — He  always  used  East  India  sugar, 
and  added  a  tamarind — it  improves  the  flavour  infinitely. 
— Dinah,  see  your  father  sends  for  some  tamarinds — 
Dartineuf  knew  a  good  thing  almost  as  well  as  his  father 
— I  met  him  at  Bath  in  the  year — let  me  see — Garrick 
was  just  taking  leave,  and  that  was  in,"  &c.  &c.  &c. — 


64  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"And  what  is  this  now,  Dinah  ?  "  he  said,  as  she  put  into 
his  hand  a  roll  of  paper. 

"  Something  that  Nelly  Trotter "  (Trotting  Nelly,  as 
the  company  called  her)  "  brought  from  a  sketching 
gentleman  that  lives  at  the  woman's "  (thus  bluntly  did 
the  upstart  minx  describe  the  reverend  Mrs.  Margaret 
Dods)  "  at  the  Cleikum  of  Aultoun  yonder " — A  name, 
by  the  way,  which  the  inn  had  acquired  from  the  use 
which  the  saint  upon  the  sign-post  was  making  of  his 
pastoral  crook. 

"  Indeed,  Dinah  ? "  said  Mr.  Winterblossom,  gravely 
taking  out  his  spectacles,  and  wiping  them  before  he 
opened  the  roll  of  paper ;  "  some  boy's  daubing,  I  sup- 
pose, whose  pa  and  ma  wish  to  get  him  into  the  Trustees' 
School,  and  so  are  beating  about  for  a  little  interest. — 
But  I  am  drained  dry — I  put  three  lads  in  last  season  ; 
and  if  it  had  not  been  my  particular  interest  with  the 
secretary,  who  asks  my  opinion  now  and  then,  I  could 
not  have  managed  it.  But  giff  gaff,  say  I. — Eh  !  What, 
in  the  devil's  name,  is  this  ? — Here  is  both  force  and 
keeping — Who  can  this  be,  my  lady? — Do  but  see  the 
sky-line — why,  this  is  really  a  little  bit — an  exquisite 
little  bit — Who  the  devil  can  it  be  ?  and  how  can  he  have 
stumbled  upon  the  dog-hole  in  the  Old   Town,  and  the 

snarling  b I  beg  your  ladyship  ten  thousand  pardons 

— that  kennels  there  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say,  my  lady,"  said  a  little  miss  of  fourteen, 
•her  eyes  growing  rounder  and  rounder,  and  her  cheeks 
redder  and  redder,  as  she  found  herself  speaking,  and  so 
many  folks  listening — "  Oh,  la  !  I  dare  say  it  is  the  same 
gentleman  we  met  one  day  in  the  Low-wood  walk,  that 
looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  yet  was  none  of  the  com- 
pany, and  that  you  said  was  a  handsome  man." 


ST.  ronak's  well.  65 

"  I  did  not  say  handsome,  Maria,"  replied  her  ladyship ; 
"  ladies  never  say  men  are  handsome — I  only  said  he 
looked  genteel  and  interesting." 

"  And  that,  my  lady,"  said  the  young  parson,  bowing 
and  smiling,  "  is,  I  will  be  judged  by  the  company,  the 
more  flattering  compliment  of  the  two — We  shall  be 
jealous  of  this  Unknown  presently." 

"  Nay,  but,"  continued  the  sweetly  communicative 
Maria,  with  some  real  and  some  assumed  simplicity, 
"  your  ladyship  forgets — for  you  said  presently  after,  you 
were  sure  he  was  no  gentleman,  for  he  did  not  run  after 
you  with  your  glove  which  you  had  dropped — and  so  I 
went  back  myself  to  find  your  ladyship's  glove,  and  he 
never  offered  to  help  me,  and  I  saw  him  closer  than  your 
ladyship  did,  and  I  am  sure  he  is  handsome,  though  he  is 
not  very  civil." 

"  You  speak  a  little  too  much  and  too  loud,  miss,"  said 
Lady  Penelope,  a  natural  blush  reinforcing  the  nuance 
of  rouge  by  which  it  was  usually  superseded. 

"  What  say  you  to  that,  Squire  Mowbray  ?  "  said  the 
elegant  Sir  Bingo  Binks. 

"  A  fair  challenge  to  the  field.  Sir  Bingo,"  answered 
the  Squire  ;  "  when  a  lady  throws  down  the  gauntlet,  a 
gentleman  may  throw  the  handkerchief." 

"  I  have  always  the  benefit  of  your  best  construction, 
Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  the  lady,  with  dignity.  "  I  suppose 
Miss  Maria  has  contrived  this  pretty  story  for  your 
amusement.  I  can  hardly  answer  to  Mr.  Digges,  for 
bringing  her  into  company  where  she  receives  encour- 
agement to  behave  so." 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  lady,"  said  the  president,  "  you  must 
let  the  jest  pass  by  ;  and  since  this  is  really  such  an  ad- 
mirable sketch,  you  must  honour  us  with  your  opinion, 

VOL.   XXXIII.  5 


GG  WAVKRLEY    NOVELS. 

whether  the  company  can  consistently  with  propriety  make 
any  advances  to  this  man." 

"  In  my  opinion,"  said  her  ladyship,  the  angry  spot 
still  flowing  on  her  brow,  "  there  are  enough  of  men 
among  us  already — I  wish  I  could  say  gentlemen — As 
matters  stand,  I  see  little  business  ladies  can  have  at  St. 
Ronan's." 

This  was  an  intimation  which  always  brought  the 
Squire  back  to  good  breeding,  which  he  could  make  use 
of  when  he  pleased.  He  deprecated  her  ladyship's  dis- 
pleasure, until  she  told  him,  in  returning  good-humour, 
that  she  really  would  not  trust  him  unless  he  brought  his 
sister  to  be  security  for  his  future  politeness. 

"  Clara,  my  lady,"  said  Mowbray,  "  is  a  little  wilful ; 
and  I  believe  your  ladyship  must  take  the  task  of  unhar- 
bouring  her  into  your  own  hands.  What  say  you  to  a 
gipsy  party  up  to  my  old  shop  ? — It  is  a  bachelor's  house 
— you  must  not  expect  things  in  much  order  ;  but  Clara 
would  be  honoured  " 

The  Lady  Penelope  eagerly  accepted  the  proposal  of 
something  like  a  party,  and,  quite  reconciled  with  Mow- 
bray, began  to  inquire  whether  she  might  bring  the 
stranger  artist  with  her,  "  that  is,"  said  her  ladyship, 
looking  to  Dinah,  "  if  he  be  a  gentleman." 

Here  Dinah  interposed  her  assurance,  "  that  the  gen- 
tleman at  Meg  Dods's  was  quite  and  clean  a  gentleman, 
and  an  illustrated  poet  besides." 

"  An  illustrated  poet,  Dinah  ?  "  said  Lady  Penelope  ; 
"  you  must  mean  an  illustrious  poet." 

"  I  dare  to  say  your  ladyship  is  right,"  said  Dinah, 
dropping  a  curtsy. 

A  joyous  nutter  of  impatient  anxiety  was  instantly  ex- 
cited through  all  the  blue-stocking  faction  of  the  company, 


ST.  ronan's  well.  67 

nor  were  the  news  totally  indifferent  to  the  rest  of  the 
community.  The  former  belonged  to  that  class,  who, 
like  the  young  Ascanius,  are  ever  beating  about  in  quest 
of  a  tawny  lion,  though  they  are  much  more  successful 
in  now  and  then  starting  a  great  bore  ;  *  and  the  others, 
having  left  all  their  own  ordinary  affairs  and  subjects  of 
interest  at  home,  were  glad  to  make  a  matter  of  import- 
ance of  the  most  trivial  occurrence.  A  mighty  poet,  said 
the  former  class — who  could  it  possibly  be  ? — All  names 
were  recited — all  Britain  scrutinized,  from  Highland  hills 
to  the  Lakes  of  Cumberland — from  Sydenham  Common 
to  St.  James's  Place — even  the  Banks  of  the  Bosphorus 
were  explored  for  some  name  which  might  rank  under 
this  distinguished  epithet. — And  then,  besides  his  illus- 
trious poesy,  to  sketch  so  inimitably  ! — who  could  it  be  ? 
And  all  the  gapers,  who  had  nothing  of  their  own  to 
suggest,  answered  with  the  antistrophe,  "  Who  could  it 
be?" 

The  Claret-Club,  which  comprised  the  choicest  and 
firmest  adherents  of  Squire  Mowbray  and  the  Baronet — 
men  who  scorned  that  the  reversion  of  one  bottle  of  wine 
should  furnish  forth  the  feast  of  to-morrow,  though  caring 
nought  about  either  of  the  fine  arts  in  question,  found 
out  an  interest  of  their  own,  which  centred  in  the  same 
individual. 

"  I  say,  little  Sir  Bingo,"  said  the  Squire,  "  this  is  the 
very  fellow  that  we  saw  down  at  the  Willow-slack  on 
Saturday — he   was   tog'd   gnostically   enough,    and    cast 

*  The  one  or  the  other  was  equally  in  volis  to  Ascanius, — 
"Optat  aprum,  aut  fulvum  descendere  moute  leouem." 

Modern  Trojans  make  a  great  distinction  betwixt  these  two  objects 
of  chase. 


68  WAVKKLKY    NOVELS. 

twelve  yards  of  line  with  one  hand — the  fly  fell  like  a 
thistledown  on  the  water." 

"  Uich  ! "  answered  the  party  he  addressed,  in  the 
accents  of  a  dog  choking  in  the  collar. 

"  We  saw  him  pull  out  the  salmon  yonder,"  said  Mow- 
hray  ;  "you  remember — clean  fish — the  tideticks  on 
his  gills — weighed,  I  dare  say,  a  matter  of  eighteen 
pounds." 

"  Sixteen ! "  replied  Sir  Bingo,  in  the  same  tone  of 
strangulation. 

"  None  of  your  rigs,  Bing !  "  said  his  companion, 
"  nearer  eighteen  than  sixteen  !  " 

"  Nearer  sixteen,  by !  " 

"  Will  you  go  a  dozen  of  blue  on  it  to  the  company  ?  " 
said  the  Squire. 

"  No,  d — me  !  "  croaked  the  Baronet — "  to  our  own  set 
I  will." 

"  Then  I  say  done  !  "  quoth  the  Squire. 

And  "  Done  !  "  responded  the  Knight ;  and  out  came 
their  red  pocket-books. 

"But  who  shall  decide  the  bet?"  said  the  Squire. 

"  The  genius  himself,  I  suppose ;  they  talk  of  asking 
him  here,  but  I  suppose  he  will  scarce  mind  quizzes  like 
them." 

"  Write  myself — John  Mowbray,"  said  the  Baronet. 

"  You,  Baronet ! — you  write  !  "  answered  the  Squire, 
"  d — me,  that  cock  won't  fight — you  won't." 

"  I  will,"  growled  Sir  Bingo,  more  articulately  than 
usual. 

"  Why,  you  can't !  "  said  Mowbray.  "  You  never  wrote 
a  line  in  your  life,  save  those  you  were  whipped  for  at 
school." 

"  I  can  write — I  will  write  !  "  said  Sir  Bingo.  "  Two 
to  one  I  will." 


ST.    KONAN  S    WELL.  69 

And  there  the  affair  rested,  for  the  counsel  of  the  com- 
pany were  in  high  consultation  concerning  the  most 
proper  manner  of  opening  a  communication  with  the 
mysterious  stranger ;  and  the  voice  of  Mr.  Winterblossom, 
whose  tones,  originally  fine,  age  had  reduced  to  falsetto, 
was  calling  upon  the  whole  party  for  "  Order,  order ! " 
So  that  the  bucks  were  obliged  to  lounge  in  silence,  with 
both  arms  reclined  on  the  table,  and  testifying,  by  coughs 
and  yawns,  their  indifference  to  the  matters  in  question, 
while  the  rest  of  the  company  debated  upon  them,  as  if 
they  were  matters  of  life  and  death. 

"  A  visit  from  one  of  the  gentlemen — Mr.  Winterblos- 
som, if  he  would  take  the  trouble, — in  name  of  the  com- 
pany at  large — would,  Lady  Penelope  Penfeather  pre- 
sumed to  think,  be  a  necessary  preliminary  to  an  invita- 
tion." 

Mr.  Winterblossom  was  "  quite  of  her  ladyship's  opin- 
ion and  would  gladly  have  been  the  personal  representa- 
tive of  the  company  at  St.  Ronan's  Well — but  it  was  up 
hill — her  ladyship  knew  his  tyrant,  the  gout,  was  hover- 
ing upon  the  frontiers — there  were  other  gentlemen, 
younger,  and  more  worthy  to  fly  at  the  lady's  command 
than  an  ancient  Vulcan  like  him, — there  was  the  valiant 
Mars  and  the  eloquent  Mercury." 

Thus  speaking,  he  bowed  to  Captain  MacTurk  and  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Simon  Chatterly,  and  reclined  on  his  chair,  sip- 
ping his  negus  with  the  self-satisfied  smile  of  one,  who, 
by  a  pretty  speech,  has  rid  himself  of  a  troublesome  com- 
mission. At  the  same  time,  by  an  act  probably  of  mental 
absence,  he  put  in  his  pocket  the  drawing,  which,  after 
circulating  around  the  table,  had  returned  back  to  the 
chair  of  the  president,  being  the  point  from  which  it  had 
set  out. 


70  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

"  By  Cot,  madam,"  said  Captain  MacTurk,  "  I  should 
be  proud  to  obey  your  leddyship's  commands — but,  by 
Cot,  I  never  call  first  on  any  man  that  never  called  upon 
me  at  all,  unless  it  were  to  carry  him  a  friend's  message, 
or  such  like." 

"  Twig  the  old  connoisseur,"  said  the  Squire  to  the 
Knight. — "  He  is  condiddling  the  drawing." 

"  Go  it,  Johnnie  Mowbray — pour  it  into  him,"  whis- 
pered Sir  Bingo. 

"  Thank  ye  for  nothing,  Sir  Bingo,"  said  the  Squire,  in 
the  same  tone.  "  Winterblossom  is  one  of  us — was  one 
of  us  at  least — and  won't  stand  the  ironing.  He  has  his 
Wogdens  still,  that  were  right  things  in  his  day,  and  can 
hit  the  hay-stack  with  the  best  of  us — but  stay,  they  are 
hallooing  on  the  parson." 

They  were  indeed  busied  on  all  hands,  to  obtain  Mr. 
Chatterly's  consent  to  wait  on  the  Genius  unknown  ;  but 
though  he  smiled  and  simpered,  and  was  absolutely  inca- 
pable of  saying  No,  he  begged  leave,  in  all  humility,  to 
decline  that  commission.  "  The  truth  was,"  he  pleaded  in 
his  excuse,  "  that  having  one  day  walked  to  visit  the  old 
Castle  of  St.  Ronan's,  and  returning  through  the  Auld 
Town,  as  it  was  popularly  called,  he  had  stopped  at  the 
door  of  the  Cleikum"  (pronounced  Anglice,  with  the 
open  dipthong,)  "  in  hopes  to  get  a  glass  of  syrup  of  cap- 
illaire,  or  a  draught  of  something  cooling;  and  had  in 
fact  expressed  his  wishes,  and  was  knocking  pretty  loudly, 
when  a  sash-window  was  thrown  suddenly  up,  and  ere  he 
was  aware  what  was  about  to  happen,  he  was  soused  with 
a  deluge  of  water,  (as  he  said,)  while  the  voice  of  an  old 
hag  from  within  assured  him  that  if  that  did  not  cool  him 
there  was  another  biding  him, — an  intimation  which  in- 
duced him  to  retreat  in  all  haste  from  the  repetition  of 
this  shower-bath." 


ST.  ronan's  well.  71 

All  laughed  at  the  account  of  the  chaplain's  misfortune, 
the  history  of  which  seemed  to  be  wrung  from  him  reluc- 
tantly, by  the  necessity  of  assigning  some  weighty  cause 
for  declining  to  execute  the  ladies'  commands.  But  the 
Squire  and  Baronet  continued  their  mirth  far  longer  than 
decorum  allowed,  flinging  themselves  back  in  their  chairs, 
with  their  hands  thrust  into  their  side  pockets,  and  their 
mouths  expanded  with  unrestrained  enjoyment,  until  the 
sufferer,  angry,  disconcerted,  and  endeavouring  to  look 
scornful,  incurred  another  general  burst  of  laughter  on 
all  hands. 

When  Mr.  Winterblossom  had  succeeded  in  restoring 
some  degree  of  order,  he  found  the  mishaps  of  the  young- 
divine  proved  as  intimidating  as  ludicrous.  Not  one  of 
the  company  chose  to  go  Envoy  Extraordinary  to  the  do- 
minions of  Queen  Meg.  who  might  be  suspected  of  pay- 
ing little  respect  to  the  sanctity  of  an  ambassador's  person. 
And  what  was  worse,  when  it  was  resolved  that  a  civil 
card  from  Mr.  Winterblossom,  in  the  name  of  the  com- 
pany, should  be  sent  to  the  stranger,  instead  of  a  personal 
visit,  Dinah  informed  them  that  she  was  sure  no  one 
about  the  house  could  be  bribed  to  carry  up  a  letter  of 
the  kind ;  for,  when  such  an  event  had  taken  place  two 
summers  since,  Meg,  who  construed  it  into  an  attempt  to 
seduce  from  her  tenement  the  invited  guest,  had  so 
handled  a  ploughboy  who  carried  the  letter,  that  he  fled 
the  country-side  altogether,  and  never  thought  himself 
safe  till  he  was  at  a  village  ten  miles  off,  where  it  was 
afterwards  learned  he  enlisted  with  a  recruiting  party, 
choosing  rather  to  face  the  French  than  to  return  within 
the  sphere  of  Meg's  <li>pleasure. 

Just  while  they  were  agitating  this  new  difliculty  a  pro- 
digious clamour  was  heard  without,  which  to  the  first  ap- 


72  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

prehensions  of  the  company,  seemed  to  be  Meg,  in  all  her 
terrors,  come  to  anticipate  the  proposed  invasion.  Upon 
inquiry,  however,  it  proved  to  be  her  gossip,  Trotting 
Nelly,  or  Nelly  Trotter,  in  the  act  of  forcing  her  way  up 
stairs,  against  the  united  strength  of  the  whole  household 
of  the  hotel,  to  reclaim  Luckie  Dods's  picture  as  she  called 
it.  This  made  the  connoisseur's  treasure  tremble  in  his 
pocket,  who,  thrusting  a  half-crown  into  Toby's  hand,  ex- 
horted him  to  give  it  her,  and  try  his  influence  in  keep- 
ing her  back.  Toby,  who  knew  Nelly's  nature,  put  the 
half-crown  into  his  own  pocket,  and  snatched  up  a  gill- 
stoup  of  whisky  from  the  sideboard.  Thus  ai'med,  he 
boldly  confronted  the  virago,  and  interposing  a  remora, 
which  was  able  to  check  poor  Nelly's  course  in  her  most 
determined  moods,  not  only  succeeded  in  averting  the  im- 
mediate storm  which  approached  the  company  in  general, 
and  Mr.  Winterblossom  in  particular,  but  brought  the 
guests  the  satisfactory  information,  that  Trotting  Nelly 
had  agreed,  after  she  had  slept  out  her  nap  in  the  barn, 
to  convey  their  commands  to  the  Unknown  of  Cleikum 
of  Aultoun. 

Mr.  Winterblossom,  therefore,  having  authenticated  his 
proceedings,  by  inserting  in  the  Minutes  of  the  Com- 
mittee, the  authority  which  he  had  received,  wrote  his 
card  in  the  best  style  of  diplomacy,  and  sealed  it  with 
the  seal  of  the  Spa,  which  bore  something  like  a  nymph, 
seated  beside  what  was  designed  to  represent  an  urn. 

The  rival  factions,  however,  did  not  trust  entirely  to 
this  official  invitation.  Lady  Penelope  was  of  opinion 
that  they  should  find  some  way  of  letting  the  stranger — 
a  man  of  talent  unquestionably — understand  that  there 
were  in  the  society  to  which  he  was  invited,  spirits  of  a 
more  select  sort,  who  felt  worthy  to  intrude  themselves 
on  his  solitude. 


ST.  eonan's  well.  73 

Accordingly  her  ladyship  imposed  upon  the  elegant 
Mr.  Chatterly  the  task  of  expressing  the  desire  of  the 
company  to  see  the  unknown  artist,  in  a  neat  occasional 
copy  of  verses.  The  poor  gentleman's  muse,  however, 
proved  unpropitious ;  for  he  was  able  to  proceed,  no 
farther  than  two  lines  in  half  an  hour,  which,  coupled 
with  its  variations,  we  insert  from  the  blotted  manuscript, 
as  Dr.  Johnson  has  printed  the  alterations  in  Pope's 
version  of  the  Iliad  : 

1.  Maids.     2.  Dames.  unity  joining. 

The  [nymphs]  of  St.  Ronan's  [in  purpose  combining] 

1.  Swain.     2.  Man. 
To  the  [youth]  who  is  great  both  in  verse  and  designing. 
--_-_.___________     dining. 

The  eloquence  of  a  prose  billet  was  necessarily  resorted 
to  in  the  absence  of  the  heavenly  muse,  and  the  said 
billet  was  secretly  intrusted  to  the  care  of  Trotting  Nelly. 
The  same  trusty  emissary,  when  refreshed  by  Iter  nap 
among  the  pease-straw,  and  about  to  harness  her  cart  for 
her  return  to  the  sea-coast,  (in  the  course  of  which  she  was 
to  pass  the  Aultoun.)  received  another  card,  written,  as  he 
had  threatened,  by  Sir  Bingo  Binks  himself,  who  had 
given  himself  this  trouble  to  secure  the  settlement  of  the 
bet ;  conjecturing  that  a  man  with  a  fashionable  exterior, 
who  could  throw  twelve  yards  of  line  at  a  cast  with  such 
precision,  might  consider  the  invitation  of  Winterblossom 
as  that  of  an  old  twaddler,  and  care  as  little  for  the  good 
graces  of  an  affected  blue-stocking  and  her  coterie,  whose 
conversation,  in  Sir  Bingo's  mind,  relished  of  nothing 
but  of  weak  tea  and  bread  and  butter.  Thus  the  happy 
Mr.  Francis  Tyrrel  received,  considerably  to  his  surprise, 
no  less  than  three  invitations  at  once  from  the  Well  of 
St.  Ronan's. 


74  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 


CHAPTER   V. 

EPISTOLARY    ELOQUENCE. 

But  how  can  I  answer,  since  first  I  must  read  thee? 


Prior. 


Desirous  of  authenticating  our  more  important  facts 
by  as  many  original  documents  as  possible,  we  have,  after 
much  research,  enabled  ourselves  to  present  the  reader 
with  the  following  accurate  transcripts  of  the  notes  in- 
trusted to  the  care  of  Trotting  Nelly.  The  first  ran 
thus  : 

"  Mr.  Winterblossom  [of  Silverhed]  has  the  com- 
mands of  Lady  Penelope  Penfeather,  Sir  Bingo  and 
Lady  Binks,  Mr.  and  Miss  Mowbray,  [of  St.  Ronan's,] 
and  the  rest  of  the  company  at  the  Hotel  and  Tontine 
Inn  of  St.  Ronan's  Well,  to  express  their  hope  that  the 
gentleman  lodged  at  the  Cleikum  Inn,  Old  Town  of  St. 
Ronan's,  will  favour  them  with  his  company  at  the 
Ordinary,  as  early  and  as  often  as  may  suit  his  conven- 
ience. The  Company  think  it  necessary  to  send  this 
intimation,  because,  according  to  the  Rules  of  the  place, 
the  Ordinary  can  only  be  attended  by  such  gentlemen  and 
ladies  as  lodge  at  St.  Ronan's  Well ;  but  they  are  happy 
to  make  a  distinction  in  favour  of  a  gentleman  so  dis- 
tinguished for  success  in  the  fine  arts  as  Mr. , 

residing   at  Cleikum.     If  Mr. should   be  in- 


75 

clined,  upon  becoming  farther  acquainted  with  the  Com- 
pany and  Rules  of  the  Place,  to  remove  his  residence 
to  the  Well,  Mr.  Winterblossom,  though  he  would  not  be 
understood  to  commit  himself  by  a  positive  assurance  to 
that  effect,  is  inclined  to  hope  that  an  arrangement  might 
be  made,  notwithstanding  the  extreme  crowd  of  the 
season,  to  accommodate  Mr. at  the  lodging- 
house,   called   Lilliput-hall.     It    will   much   conduce    to 

facilitate  this  negotiation,  if  Mr. would  have 

the  goodness  to  send  an  exact  note  of  his  stature,  as 
Captain  Rannletree  seems  disposed  to  resign  the  folding- 
bed  at  Lilliput-hall,  on  account  of  his  finding  it  rather 
deficient  in  length.     Mr.  Winterblossom  begs  farther  to 

assure  Mr. of  the  esteem  in  which  he  holds 

his  genius,  and  of  his  high  personal  consideration. 

"  For ,  Esquire,  Cleikum  Inn, 

Old  Town  of  St.  Ronan's. 

"  The  Public  Booms,  Hotel,  and  Tontine, 
St.  Ronan's  Well,  cfc.  cfc.  cfc." 

The  above  card  was  written  (we  love  to  be  precise  in 
matters  concerning  orthography)  in  a  neat,  round,  clerk- 
like hand,  which,  like  Mr.  Winterblossom's  character,  in 
many  particulars  was  most  accurate  and  commonplace, 
though  betraying  an  affectation  both  of  flourish  and  of 
facility. 

The  next  billet  was  a  contrast  to  the  diplomatic  gravity 
and  accuracy  of  Mr.  Winterblossom's  official  communica- 
tion, and  ran  thus,  the  young  divine's  academic  jests  and 
classical  flowers  of  eloquence  being  mingled  with  some 
wild  flowers  from  the  teeming  fancy  of  Lady  Penelope. 

"  A  choir  of  Dryads  and  Naiads,  assembled  at  the  heal- 


76  AVAVKRLEY    NOVELS. 

ing  spring  of  St.  Ronan's,  have  learned  with  surprise  that 
a  youth,  gifted  by  Apollo,  when  the  Deity  was  prodigal, 
with  two  of  his  most  esteemed  endowments,  wanders  at 
will  among  their  domains,  frequenting  grove  and  river, 
without  once  dreaming  of  paying  homage  to  its  tutelary 
deities.  He  is,  therefore,  summoned  to  their  presence, 
and  prompt  obedience  will  ensure  him  forgiveness  ;  but 
in  case  of  contumacy,  let  him  beware  how  he  again 
essays  either  the  lyre  or  the  pallet. 

"  Postscript.  The  adorable  Penelope,  long  enrolled 
among  the  Goddesses  for  her  beauty  and  virtues,  gives 
Nectar  and  Ambrosia,  which  mortals  call  tea  and  cake, 
at  the  Public  Booms,  near  the  Sacred  Spring,  on  Thurs- 
day evening,  at  eight  o'clock,  when  the  Muses  never  fail 
to  attend.  The  stranger's  presence  is  requested  to  par- 
ticipate in  the  delights  of  the  evening. 

"  Second  Postscript.     A  shepherd,  ambitiously  aiming 

at  more   accommodation   than    his   narrow   cot   affords, 

leaves  it  in  a  day  or  two. 

'  Assuredly  the  thing  is  to  be  hired.' 

As  You  Like  It. 

"  Postscript  third.     Our  Iris,  whom  mortals  know  as 

Trotting  Nelly  in  her  tartan   cloak,  will    bring   us  the 

stranger's  answer  to  our  celestial  summons." 

This  letter  was  written  in  a  delicate  Italian  hand, 
garnished  with  fine  hair  strokes  and  dashes,  which  were 
sometimes  so  dexterously  thrown  off  as  to  represent 
lyres,  pallets,  vases,  and  other  appropriate  decorations, 
suited  to  the  tenor  of  the  contents. 

The  third  epistle  was  a  complete  contrast  to  the  other 
two.  It  was  written  in  a  coarse,  irregular,  schoolboy 
half-text,  which,  however,  seemed  to  have  cost  the  writer 


ST.    RONANS    WELL.  it 

as  much  pains  as  if  it  had  been  a  specimen  of  the  most 
exquisite  calligraphy.     And  these  were  the  contents  : — 

«  SUR — Jack  Moobray  has  betted  with  me  that  the 
samon  you  killed  on  Saturday  last  weyd  ni  to  eiteen 
pounds, — I  say  nyer  sixteen. — So  you  being  a  spurtsman, 
'tis  refer'd. — So  hope  you  will  come  or  send  me't ;  do  not 
doubt  you  will  be  on  honour.  The  bet  is  a  dozen  of 
claret,  to  be  drank  at  the  hotel  by  our  own  sett,  on  Mon- 
day next ;  and  we  beg  you  will  make  one  ;  and  Moobray 
hopes  you  will  come  down. — Being,  sir,  your  most  hum- 
bet-servant, — Bingo  Binks  Baronet,  and  of  Block-hall. 

"Postscript.  Have  sent  some  loops  of  Indian  gout, 
also  some  black  hakkels  of  my  groom's  dressing  ;  hope 
they  will  prove  killing,  as  suiting  river  and  season." 

No  answer  was  received  to  any  of  these  invitations  for 
more  than  three  days  ;  which,  while  it  secretly  rather 
added  to  than  diminished  the  curiosity  of  the  "Wellers 
concerning  the  Unknown,  occasioned  much  railing  in 
public  against  him,  as  ill-mannered  and  rude. 

Meantime,  Francis  Tyrrel,  to  his  great  surprise,  began 
to  find,  like  the  philosophers,  that  he  was  never  less 
alone  than  when  alone.  In  the  most  silent  and  seques- 
tered w*alks,  to  which  the  present  state  of  his  mind  in- 
duced him  to  betake  himself,  he  was  sure  to  find  some 
strollers  from  the  Well,  to  whom  he  had  become  the  ob- 
ject of  so  much  solicitous  interest.  Quite  innocent  of 
the  knowledge  that  he  himself  possessed  the  attraction 
which  occasioned  his  meeting  them  so  frequently,  he 
began  to  doubt  whether  the  Lady  Penelope  and  her 
maidens — Mr.  Winterblossom  and  his  gray  pony — the 
parson  and  his  short  black  coat  and  raven-gray  panta- 


to  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

loons — were  not  either  actually  polygraphic  copies  of  the 
same  individuals,  or  possessed  of  a  celerity  of  motion  re- 
sembling omnipresence  and  ubiquity ;  for  nowhere  could 
he  go  without  meeting  them,  and  that  oftener  than  once 
a-day,  in  the  course  of  his  walks.  Sometimes  the  pres- 
ence of  the  sweet  Lycoris  was  intimated  by  the  sweet 
prattle  in  an  adjacent  shade ;  sometimes  when  Tyrrel 
thought  himself  most  solitary,  the  parson's  flute  was 
heard  snoring  forth  Gramachree  Molly ;  and  if  he  be- 
took himself  to  the  river,  he  was  pretty  sure  to  find  his 
sport  watched  by  Sir  Bingo  or  some  of  his  friends. 

The  efforts  which  Tyrrel  made  to  escape  from  this 
persecution,  and  the  impatience  of  it  which  his  manner 
indicated,  procured  him  among  the  Wellers,  the  name  of 
the  Misanthrope  ;  and  once  distinguished  as  an  object  of 
curiosity,  he  was  the  person  most  attended  to,  who  could 
at  the  ordinary  of  the  day  give  the  most  accurate  ac- 
count of  where  the  Misanthrope  had  been,  and  how  oc- 
cupied in  the  course  of  the  morning.  And  so  far  was 
Tyrrel's  shyness  from  diminishing  the  desire  of  the 
Wellers  for  his  society,  that  the  latter  feeling  increased 
with  the  difficulty  of  gratification, — as  the  angler  feels 
the  most  peculiar  interest  when  throwing  his  fly  for  the 
most  cunning  and  considerate  trout  in  the  pool. 

In  short,  such  was  the  interest  which  the  excited  im- 
aginations of  the  company  took  in  the  Misanthrope,  that, 
notwithstanding  the  unamiable  qualities  which  the  woi'd 
expresses,  there  was  only  one  of  the  society  who  did  not. 
desire  to  see  the  specimen  at  their  rooms,  for  the  purpose 
of  examining  him  closely  and  at  leisure ;  and  the  ladies 
were  particularly  desirous  to  inquire  whether  he  was 
actually  a  Misanthrope  ?  Whether  he  had  been  always 
a  Misanthrope  ?     What   had  induced  him   to  become  a 


ST.  roxan's  well.  79 

Misanthrope  ?  And  whether  there  were  no  means  of 
inducing  him  to  cease  to  be  a  Misanthrope  ? 

One  individual  only,  as  we  have  said,  neither  desired 
to  see  nor  hear  more  of  the  supposed  Timon  of  Cleikum, 
and  that  was  Mr.  Mowbray  of  St.  Rouan's.  Through 
the  medium  of  that  venerable  character  John  Pirner, 
professed  weaver  and  practical  black-fisher  in  the  Aul- 
toun  of  St.  Ronan's,  who  usually  attended  Tyrrel,  to 
show  him  the  casts  of  the  river,  carry  his  bag,  and  so 
forth,  the  Squire  had  ascertained  that  the  judgment  of 
Sir  Bingo  regarding  the  disputed  weight  of  the  fish  was 
more  correct  than  his  own.  This  inferred  an  immediate 
loss  of  honour,  besides  the  payment  of  a  heavy  bill. 
And  the  consequences  might  be  yet  more  serious ;  noth- 
ing short  of  the  emancipation  of  Sir  Bingo,  who  had 
hitherto  been  Mowbray's  convenient  shadow  and  adhe- 
rent, but  who,  if  triumphant,  confiding  in  his  superiority 
of  judgment  upon  so  important  a  point,  might  either  cut 
him  altogether,  or  expect  that,  in  future,  the  Squire,  who 
had  long  seemed  the  planet  of  their  set,  should  be  con- 
tent to  roll  around  himself,  Sir  Bingo,  in  the  capacity  of 
a  satellite. 

The  Squire,  therefore,  devoutly  hoped  that  Tyrrel's 
restive  disposition  might  continue,  to  prevent  the  decision 
of  the  bet,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  nourished  a  very 
reasonable  degree  of  dislike  to  that  stranger,  who  had 
been  the  indirect  occasion  of  the  unpleasant  predicament 
in  which  he  found  himself,  by  not  catching  a  salmon 
weighing  a  pound  heavier.  He,  therefore,  openly  cen- 
sured the  meanness  of  those  who  proposed  taking  farther 
notice  of  Tyrrel,  and  referred  to  the  unanswered  letters, 
as  a  piece  of  impertinence  which  announced  him  to  be 
no  gentleman. 


80  WAVliRLEY    NOVELS. 

But  though  appearances  were  against  him,  and  though 
he  was  in  truth  naturally  inclined  to  solitude,  and  averse 
to  the  affectation  and  hustle  of  such  a  society,  that  part 
of  Tyrrel's  behaviour  which  indicated  ill-breeding  was 
easily  accounted  for,  by  his  never  having  received  the 
letters  which  required  an  answer.  Trotting  Nelly, 
whether  unwilling  to  face  her  gossip,  Meg  Dods,  without 
bringing  back  the  drawing,  or  whether  oblivious  through 
the  influence  of  the  double  dram  with  which  she  had 
been  indulged  at  the  Well,  jumbled  off  with  her  cart  to 
her  beloved  village  of  Scate-raw,  from  which  she  trans- 
mitted the  letters  by  the  first  bare-legged  gillie  who  trav- 
elled towards  Aultoun  of  St.  Ronan's ;  so  that  at  last, 
but  after  a  long  delay,  they  reached  the  Cleikum  Inn 
and  the  hands  of  Mr.  Tyrrel. 

The  arrival  of  these  documents  explained  some  part 
of  the  oddity  of  behaviour  which  had  surprised  him  in 
his  neighbours  of  the  Well ;  and  as  he  saw  they  had  got 
somehow  an  idea  of  his  being  a  lion  extraordinary,  and 
was  sensible  that  such  is  a  character  equally  ridiculous, 
and  difficult  to  support,  he  hastened  to  write  to  Mr.  Win- 
terblossom  a  card  in  the  style  of  ordinary  mortals.  In 
this  he  stated  the  delay  occasioned  by  miscarriage  of  the 
letter,  and  his  regret  on  that  account ;  expressed  his  in- 
tention of  dining  with  the  company  at  the  Well  on  the 
succeeding  day,  while  he  regretted  that  other  circum- 
stances, as  well  as  the  state  of  his  health  and  spirits, 
would  permit  him  this  honour  very  infrequently  during 
his  stay  in  the  country,  and  begged  no  trouble  might  be 
taken  about  his  accommodation  at  the  Well,  as  he  was 
perfectly  satisfied  with  his  present  residence.  A  sepa- 
rate note  to  Sir  Bingo,  said  he  was  happy  he  could  verify 
the  weight  of  the  fish,  which  he  had  noted  in  his  diary ; 


ST.    RONANS    WELL.  81 

("  D — n  the  fellow,  does  he  keep  a  diary  ?  "  said  the  Bar- 
onet,) and  though  the  result  could  only  be  particularly 
agreeable  to  one  party,  he  should  wish  both  winner  and 
loser  mirth  with  their  wine  ; — he  was  sorry  he  was  unable 
to  promise  himself  the  pleasure  of  participating  in  either. 
Enclosed  was  a  signed  note  of  the  weight  of  the  fish. 
Armed  with  this,  Sir  Bingo  claimed  his  wine — triumphed 
in  his  judgment — swore  louder  and  more  articulately 
than  ever  he  was  known  to  utter  any  previous  sounds, 
that  this  Tyrrel  was  a  devilish  honest  fellow,  and  he 
trusted  to  be  better  acquainted  with  him ;  while  the 
crest-fallen  Squire,  privately  cursing  the  stranger  by  all 
his  gods,  had  no  mode  of  silencing  his  companion  but 
by  allowing  his  loss,  and  fixing  a  day  for  discussing  the 
bet. 

In  the  public  rooms  the  company  examined  even  mi- 
croscopically the  response  of  the  stranger  to  Mr.  Winter- 
blossom,  straining  their  ingenuity  to  discover,  in  the  most 
ordinary  expressions,  a  deeper  and  esoteric  meaning,  ex- 
pressive of  something  mysterious,  and  not  meant  to  meet 
the  eye.  Mr.  Meiklewham,  the  writer,  dwelt  on  the 
word  circumstances,  which  he  read  with  peculiar  em- 
phasis. 

"  Ah,  poor  lad ! "  he  concluded,  "  I  doubt  he  sits 
cheaper  at  Meg  Dort's  chimney-corner  than  he  could  do 
with  the  present  company." 

Dr.  Quackleben,  in  the  manner  of  a  clergyman  select- 
ing a  word  from  his  text,  as  that  which  is  particularly 
in-isted  upon,  repeated  in  an  under  tone,  the  words, 
"State  of  health^ — umph — state  of  health? — Nothing 
acute — no  one  has  been  sent  for — must  be  chronic — tend- 
ing to  gout,  perhaps. — Or  his  shyness  to  society — light 
wild  eye — irregular  step — starting  when  met  suddenly 
VOL.  xxxm.  6 


82  WATERLEY   NOVELS. 

by  a  stranger,  and  turning  abruptly  and  angrily  away — 
Pray,  Mr.  Winterblossom,  let  me  have  an  order  to  look 
over  the  file  of  newspapers — it's  very  troublesome  that 
restriction  about  consulting  them." 

"  You  know  it  is  a  necessary  one,  Doctor,"  said  the 
president;  "because  so  few  of  the  good  company  read 
any  thing  else,  that  the  old  newspapers  would  have  been 
worn  to  pieces  long  since." 

"  Well,  well,  let  me  have  the  order,"  said  the  Doctor  ; 
"  I  remember  something  of  a  gentleman  run  away  from 
his  friends — I  must  look  at  the  description. — I  believe  I 
have  a  strait-jacket  somewhere  about  the  Dispensary." 

While  this  suggestion  appalled  the  male  pai-t  of  the 
company,  who  did  not  much  relish  the  approaching  din- 
ner in  company  with  a  gentleman  whose  situation  seemed 
so  precarious,  some  of  the  younger  Misses  whispered  to 
each  other — "  Ah,  poor  fellow  ! — and  if  it  be  as  the  Doc- 
tor supposes,  my  lady,  who  knows  what  the  cause  of  his 
illness  may  have  been  ? — His  spirits  he  complains  of — 
ah,  poor  man  ! " 

And  thus,  by  the  ingenious  commentaries  of  the  com- 
pany at  the  Well,  on  as  plain  a  note  as  ever  covered  the 
eighth  part  of  a  sheet  of  foolscap,  the  writer  was  de- 
prived of  his  property,  his  reason,  and  his  heart,  "  all  or 
either,  or  one  or  other  of  them,"  as  is  briefly  and  dis- 
tinctly expressed  in  the  law  phrase. 

In  short,  so  much  was  said  pro  and  con,  so  many  ideas 
started  and  theories  maintained,  concerning  the  disposi- 
tion and  character  of  the  Misanthrope,  that,  when  the 
company  assembled  at  the  usual  time,  before  proceeding 
to  dinner,  they  doubted,  as  it  seemed,  whether  the  ex- 
pected addition  to  their  society  was  to  enter  the  room  on 
his  hands  or  his   feet ;    and  when  "  Mr.  Tyrrel "  was 


ST.  ronan's  well.  83 

announced  by  Toby,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  the  gentle- 
man who  entered  the  room  had  so  very  little  to  distin- 
guish him  from  others,  that  there  was  a  momentary  dis- 
appointment. The  ladies,  in  particular,  began  to  doubt 
whether  the  compound  of  talent,  misanthropy,  madness, 
and  mental  sensibility,  which  they  had  pictured  to  them- 
selves, actually  was  the  same  with  the  genteel,  and  even 
fashionable-looking  man  whom  they  saw  before  them ; 
who,  though  in  a  morning  dress,  which  the  distance  of 
his  residence,  and  the  freedom  of  the  place,  made  ex- 
cusable, had,  even  in  the  minute  points  of  his  exterior, 
none  of  the  negligence,  or  wildness,  which  might  be  sup- 
posed to  attach  to  the  vestments  of  a  misanthropic  recluse, 
whether  sane  or  insane.  As  he  paid  his  compliments 
round  the  circle,  the  scales  seemed  to  fall  from  the  eyes 
of  those  he  spoke  to ;  and  they  saw  with  surprise,  that 
the  exaggerations  had  existed  entirely  in  their  own  pre- 
conceptions, and  that  whatever  the  fortunes,  or  rank  in 
life,  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  might  be,  his  manners,  without  being 
showy,  were  gentleman-like  and  pleasing.  He  returned 
his  thanks  to  Mr.  Winterblossom  in  a  manner  which 
made  that  gentleman  recall  his  best  breeding  to  answer 
the  stranger's  address  in  kind.  He  then  escaped  from 
the  awkwardness  of  remaining  the  sole  object  of  atten- 
tion, by  gliding  gradually  among  the  company, — not  like 
an  owl,  which  seeks  to  hide  itself  in  a  thicket,  or  an 
awkward  and  retired  man,  shrinking  from  the  society 
into  which  he  is  compelled,  but  with  the  air  of  one  who 
could  maintain  with  ease  his  part  in  a  higher  circle.  His 
address  to  Lady  Penelope  was  adapted  to  the  romantic 
tone  of  Mr.  Chatterly's  epistle,  to  which  it  was  necessary 
to  allude.  He  was  afraid,  he  said,  he  must  complain  to 
Juno  of  the   neglect  of  Iris,  for   her  irregularity  in  de- 


84  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

livery  of  a  certain  ethereal  command,  which  he  had  not 
dared  to  answer  otherwise  than  by  mute  obedience — 
unless,  indeed,  as  the  import  of  the  letter  seemed  to  infer, 
the  invitation  was  designed  for  some  more  gifted  individ- 
ual than  he  to  whom  chance  had  assigned^. 

Lady  Penelope  by  her  lips,  and  many  of  the  young 
ladies  with  their  eyes,  assured  him  there  was  no  mistake 
in  the  matter  ;  that  he  was  really  the  gifted  person  whom 
the  nymphs  had  summoned  to  their  presence,  and  that 
they  were  well  acquainted  with  his  talents  as  a  poet  and 
a  painter.  Tyrrel  disclaimed,  with  earnestness  and  grav- 
ity, the  charge  of  poetry,  and  professed,  that,  far  from 
attempting  the  art  itself,  he  "  read  with  reluctance  all  but 
the  productions  of  the  very  first-rate  poets,  and  some  of 
these — he  was  almost  afraid  to  say — he  should  have  liked 
better  in  humble  prose." 

"  You  have  now  only  to  disown  your  skill  as  an  artist," 
said  Lady  Penelope,  "  and  we  must  consider  Mr.  Tyrrel 
as  the  falsest  and  most  deceitful  of  his  sex,  who  has  a 
mind  to  deprive  us  of  the  opportunity  of  benefiting  by 
the  productions  of  his  unparalleled  endowments.  I  assure 
you  I  shall  put  my  young  friends  on  their  guard.  Such 
dissimulation  cannot  be  without  its  object." 

"  And  I,"  said  Mr.  Winterblossom,  "  can  produce  a 
piece  of  real  evidence  against  the  culprit." 

So  saying,  he  unrolled  the  sketch  which  he  had  filched 
from  Trotting  Nelly,  and  which  he  had  pared  and  pasted, 
(arts  in  which  he  was  eminent,)  so  as  to  take  out  its 
creases,  repair  its  breaches,  and  vamp  it  as  well  as  my 
old  friend  Mrs.  Weir  could  have  repaired  the  damages 
of  time  on  a  folio  Shakspeare. 

"  The  vera  corpus  delicti,"  said  the  writer,  grinning 
and  rubbing  his  hands. 


st.  ronan's  well.  85 

"  If  you  are  so  good  as  to  call  such  scratches  draw- 
ings," said  Tyrrel,  "  I  must  stand  so  far  confessed.  I 
used  to  do  them  for  my  own  amusement ;  but  since  my 
landlady,  Mrs.  Dods,  has  of  late  discovered  that  I  gain 
my  livelihood  by  them,  why  should  I  disown  it  ?  " 

This  avowal,  made  without  the  least  appearance  either 
of  shame  or  retenue,  seemed  to  have  a  striking  effect  on 
the  whole  society.  The  president's  trembling  hand  stole 
the  sketch  back  to  the  portfolio,  afraid  doubtless  it  might 
be  claimed  in  form,  or  else  compensation  expected  by  the 
artist.  Lady  Penelope  was  disconcerted,  like  an  awk- 
ward horse  when  it  changes  the  leading  foot  in  galloping. 
She  had  to  recede  from  the  respectful  and  easy  footing 
on  which  he  had  contrived  to  place  himself,  to  one  which 
might  express  patronage  on  her  own  part,  and  de- 
pendence on  Tyrrel's ;  and  this  could  not  be  done  in  a 
moment. 

The  Man  of  Law  murmured,  "  Circumstances — cir- 
cumstances— I  thought  so  !  " 

Sir  Bingo  whispered  to  his  friend  the  Squire,  "  Run 
out — blown  up — off  the  course — pity — d — d  pretty  fel- 
low he  has  been  !  " 

"  A  raff  from  the  beginning ! "  whispered  Mowbi'ay. — 
"  I  never  thought  him  any  thing  else." 

"  I'll  hold  ye  a  pony  of  that,  my  dear,  and  I'll  ask  him." 

"  Done,  for  a  pony,  provided  you  ask  him  in  ten  min- 
utes," said  the  Squire ;  "  but  you  dare  not,  Bingie — he 
has  a  d — d  cross  game  look,  with  all  that  civil  chaff  of 
his." 

"  Done,"  said  Sir  Bingo,  but  in  a  less  confident  tone 
than  before,  and  with  a  determination  to  proceed  with 
some  caution  in  the  matter. — "  I  have  got  a  rouleau 
above,  and  Wintcrblossom  shall  hold  stakes." 


86  WAVEKLEY   NOVELS. 

"  I  have  no  rouleau,"  said  the  Squire  ;  "  but  I'll  fly  a 
cheque  on  Meiklewham." 

"  See  it  be  better  than  your  last,"  said  Sir  Bingo, 
"  for  I  won't  be  skylarked  again. — Jack,  my  boy,  you  are 
had." 

"  Not  till  the  bet's  won  ;  and  I  shall  see  yon  walking 
dandy  break  your  head,  Bingie,  before  that,"  answered 
Mowbray.  "  Best  speak  to  the  Captain  before  hand — it 
is  a  hellish  scrape  you  are  running  into — I'll  let  you  off 
yet,  Bingie,  for  a  guinea  forfeit. — See,  I  am  just  going 
to  start  the  tattler." 

"  Start,  and  be  d — d  !  "  said  Sir  Bingo.  "  You  are 
gotten,  I  assure  you  o'  that,  Jack."  And  with  a  bow 
and  a  shuffle,  he  went  up  and  introduced  himself  to  the 
stranger  as  Sir  Bingo  Binks. 

"  Had — honour — write — sir,"  were  the  only  sounds 
which  his  throat,  or  rather  his  cravat,  seemed  to  send 
forth. 

"  Confound  the  booby  !  "  thought  Mowbray ;  "  he  will 
get  out  of  leading  strings,  if  he  goes  on  at  this  rate ;  and 
doubly  confounded  be  this  cursed  tramper,  who,  the  Lord 
knows  why,  has  come  hither  from  the  Lord  knows  where, 
to  drive  the  pigs  through  my  game." 

In  the  meantime,  while  his  friend  stood  with  his  stop- 
watch in  his  hand,  with  a  visage  lengthened  under  the 
influence  of  these  reflections,  Sir  Bingo,  with  an  instinc- 
tive tact,  which  self-preservation  seemed  to  dictate  to  a 
brain  neither  the  most  delicate  nor  subtle  in  the  world, 
premised  his  inquiry  by  some  general  remarks  on 
fishing  and  field-sports.  With  all  these  he  found  Tyrrel 
more  than  passably  acquainted.  Of  fishing  and  shooting, 
particularly,  he  spoke  with  something  like  enthusiasm  ; 
so  that  Sir  Bingo  began  to  hold  him  in  considerable  re- 


ST.  ronan's  well.  87 

spect,  and  to  assure  himself  that  he  could  not  be,  or  at 
least  could  not  originally  have  been  bred,  the  itinerant 
artist  which  he  now  gave  himself  out — and  this,  with  the 
fast  lapse  of  the  time,  induced  him  thus  to  address 
Tyrrel. — "  I  say,  Mr.  Tyrrel — why,  you  have  been  one 
of  us — I  say" 

"  If  you  mean  a  sportsman,  Sir  Bingo — I  have  been, 
and  am  a  pretty  keen  one  still,"  replied  Tyrrel. 

"  Why,  then,  you  did  not  always  do  them  sort  of 
things  ?  " 

"  What  sort  of  things  do  you  mean,  Sir  Bingo  ?  "  said 
Tyrrel.  "  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  understanding 
you." 

"  Why,  I  mean  them  sketches,"  said  Sir  Bingo.  "  I'll 
give  you  a  handsome  order  for  them,  if  you  will  tell  me. 
I  will,  on  my  honour." 

"  Does  it  concern  you  particularly,  Sir  Bingo,  to  know 
any  thing  of  my  affairs  ?  "  said  Tyrrel. 

"  No  —  certainly  —  not  immediately,"  answered  Sir 
Bingo,  with  some  hesitation,  for  he  liked  not  the  dry 
tone  in  which  Tyrrcl's  answers  were  returned,  half  so 
well  as  a  bumper  of  dry  sherry ;  "  only  I  said  you  were 
a  d — d  gnostic  fellow,  and  I  laid  a  bet  you  have  not  been 
always  professional — that's  all." 

Mr.  Tyrrel  replied,  "  A  bet  with  Mr.  Mowbray,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  Jack,"  replied  the  Baronet — "  you  have 
hit  it — I  hope  I  have  done  him  ?  " 

Tyrrel  bent  his  brows,  and  looked  first  at  Mr.  Mow- 
bray, then  at  the  Baronet,  and,  after  a  moment's  thought, 
addressed  the  latter. — "  Sir  Bingo  Binks,  you  are  a  gen- 
tleman of  elegant  inquiry  and  acute  judgment. — You  are 
perfectly   right — I  was  not  bred  to  the  profession   of  an 


88  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

artist,  nor  did  I  practice  it  formerly,  whatever  I  may  do 
now  ;  and  so  that  question  is  answered." 

"  And  Jack  is  diddled,"  said  the  Baronet,  smiting  his 
thigh  in  triumph,  and  turning  towards  the  Squire,  and 
the  stake-holder,  with  a  smile  of  exultation. 

"  Stop  a  single  moment,  Sir  Bingo,"  said  Tyrrel ;  "  take 
one  word  with  you.  I  have  a  great  respect  for  bets — it 
is  part  of  an  Englishman's  charter  to  bet  on  what  he 
thinks  fit,  and  to  prosecute  his  inquiries  over  hedge  and 
ditch,  as  if  he  were  steeple-hunting.  But  as  I  have  satis- 
fied you  on  the  subject  of  two  bets,  that  is  sufficient  com- 
pliance with  the  custom  of  the  country ;  and  therefore  I 
request,  Sir  Bingo,  you  will  not  make  me  or  my  affairs 
the  subject  of  any  more  wagers." 

"  I'll  be  d — d  if  I  do,"  was  the  internal  resolution  of 
Sir  Bingo.  Aloud  he  muttered  some  apologies,  and  was 
heartily  glad  that  the  dinner-bell,  sounding  at  the  mo- 
ment, afforded  him  an  apology  for  shuffling  off  in  a  differ- 
ent direction. 


st.  ronan's  well.  89 


CHAPTER  VI. 


TABLE-TALK. 


And.  sir,  if  these  accounts  be  true, 
The  Dutch  have  mighty  things  in  view; 
The  Austrians — I  admire  French  Beans, 
Dear  ma'am,  above  all  other  greens. 

#         *  *  *         # 

And  all  as  lively  and  as  brisk 

As — Ma'am,  d'ye  choose  a  game  at  whisk? 

Table-Talk. 


When  they  were  about  to  leave  the  room.  Lady  Pe- 
nelope assumed  Tyrrel's  arm  with  a  sweet  smile  of  conde- 
scension, meant  to  make  the  honoured  party  understand 
in  its  full  extent  the  favour  conferred.  But  the  unrea- 
sonable artist,  far  from  intimating  the  least  confusion  at 
an  attention  so  little  to  be  expected,  seemed  to  consider 
the  distinction  as  one  which  was  naturally  paid  to  the 
greatest  stranger  present ;  and  when  he  placed  Lady 
Penelope  at  the  head  of  the  table,  by  Mr.  Winterblossom 
the  president,  and  took  a  chair  for  himself  betwixt  her 
ladyship  and  Lady  Binks,  the  provoking  wretch  appeared 
no  more  sensible  of  being  exalted  above  his  proper  rank 
in  society,  than  if  he  had  been  sitting  at  the  bottom  of 
the  table  by  honest  Mrs.  Blower  from  the  Bow-head, 
who  had  come  to  the  Well  to  carry  off  the  dregs  of  the 
Inflienzie,  which  she  scorned  to  term  a  surfeit. 


90  WAVKRLEY    NOVELS. 

Now  this  indifference  puzzled  Lady  Penelope's  game 
extremely,  and  irritated  her  desire  to  get  at  the  bottom 
of  Tyrrel's  mystery,  if  there  was  one,  and  secure  him  to 
her  own  party.  If  you  were  ever  at  a  watering-place, 
reader,  you  know  that  while  the  guests  do  not  always 
pay  the  most  polite  attention  to  unmarked  individuals, 
the  appearance  of  a  stray  lion  makes  an  interest  as 
strong  as  it  is  reasonable,  and  the  Amazonian  chiefs  of 
each  coterie,  like  the  hunters  of  Buenos- Ayres,  prepare 
their  lasso,  and  manoeuvre  to  the  best  advantage  they 
can,  each  hoping  to  noose  the  unsuspicious  monster,  and 
lead  him  captive  to  her  own  menagerie.  A  few  words 
concerning  Lady  Penelope  Penfeather  will  explain  why 
she  practised  this  sport  with  even  more  than  common 
zeal. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  an  earl,  possessed  a  showy 
person,  and  features  which  might  be  called  handsome  in 
youth,  though  now  rather  too  much  prononces  to  render 
the  term  proper.  The  nose  was  become  sharper ;  the 
cheeks  had  lost  the  roundness  of  youth  ;  and  as,  during 
fifteen  years  that  she  had  reigned  a  beauty  and  a  ruling- 
toast,  the  right  man  had  not  spoken,  or,  at  least,  had  not 
spoken  at  the  right  time,  her  ladyship,  now  rendered 
sufficiently  independent  by  the  inheritance  of  an  old 
relation,  spoke  in  praise  of  friendship,  began  to  dislike 
the  town  in  summer,  and  to  "  babble  of  green  fields." 

About  the  time  Lady  Penelope  thus  changed  the 
tenor  of  her  life,  she  was  fortunate  enough,  with  Dr. 
Quackleben's  assistance,  to  find  out  the  virtues  of  St. 
Ronan's  spring ;  and,  having  contributed  her  share  to 
establish  the  Urbs  in  rure,  which  had  risen  around  it, 
she  sat  herself  down  as  leader  of  the  fashions  in  the 
little  province  which  she  had  in  a  great  measure  both 


ST.  ronan's  well.  91 

discovered  and  colonized.  She  was,  therefore,  justly 
desirous  to  compel  homage  and  tribute  from  all  who 
should  approach  the  territory. 

In  other  respects,  Lady  Penelope  pretty  much  resem- 
bled the  numerous  class  she  belonged  to.  She  was  at 
bottom  a  well-principled  woman,  but  too  thoughtless  to 
let  her  principles  control  her  humour,  therefore  not  scru- 
pulously nice  in  her  society.  She  was  good-natured,  but 
capricious  and  whimsical,  and  willing  enough  to  be  kind 
or  generous,  if  it  neither  thwarted  her  humour,  nor  cost 
her  much  trouble ;  would  have  chaperoned  a  young 
friend  any  where,  and  moved  the  world  for  subscription 
tickets  ;  but  never  troubled  herself  how  much  her  giddy 
charge  flirted,  or  with  whom  ;  so  that,  with  a  numerous 
class  of  Misses,  her  ladyship  was  the  most  delightful 
creature  in  the  world.  Then  Lady  Penelope  had  lived  so 
much  in  society,  knew  so  exactly  when  to  speak,  and 
how  to  escape  from  an  embarrassing  discussion  by  pro- 
fessing ignorance,  while  she  looked  intelligence,  that  she 
was  not  generally  discovered  to  be  a  fool,  unless  when 
she  set  up  for  being  remarkably  clever.  This  happened 
more  frequently  of  late,  when  perhaps,  as  she  could  not 
but  observe  that  the  repairs  of  the  toilette  became  more 
necessary,  she  might  suppose  that  new  lights,  according 
to  the  poet,  were  streaming  on  her  mind  through  the 
chinks  that  Time  was  making.  Many  of  her  friends, 
however,  thought  that  Lady  Penelope  would  have  better 
consulted  her  genius  by  remaining  in  mediocrity,  as  a 
fashionable  and  well-bred  woman,  than  by  parading  her 
new-founded  pretensions  to  taste  and  patronage  ;  but  such 
was  not  her  own  opinion,  and  doubtless,  her  ladyship  was 
the  best  judge. 

On  the  other  side  of  Tyrrel  sat  Lady  Binks,  lately  the 


02  "WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

beautiful  Miss  Bonnyrigg,  who,  during  the  last  season, 
had  made  the  company  at  the  Well  alternately  admire, 
smile,  and  stare,  by  dancing  the  highest  Highland  fling, 
riding  the  wildest  pony,  laughing  the  loudest  laugh  at 
the  broadest  joke,  and  wearing  the  briefest  petticoat  of 
any  nymph  of  St.  Ronan's.  Few  knew  that  this  wild, 
hoydenish,  half-mad  humour,  was  only  superinduced 
over  her  real  character,  for  the  purpose  of — getting  well 
married.  She  had  fixed  her  eyes  on  Sir  Bingo,  and  was 
aware  of  his  maxim,  that  to  catch  him,  "  a  girl  must  be," 
in  his  own  phrase,  "  bang  up  to  every  thing ; "  and  that 
he  would  choose  a  wife  for  the  neck-or-nothing  qualities 
which  recommend  a  good  hunter.  She  made  out  her 
catch-match,  and  she  was  miserable.  Her  wild  good- 
humour  was  entirely  an  assumed  part  of  her  character, 
which  was  passionate,  ambitious,  and  thoughtful.  Deli- 
cacy she  had  none — she  knew  Sir  Bingo  was  a  brute  and 
a  fool,  even  while  she  was  hunting  him  down ;  but  she 
had  so  far  mistaken  her  own  feelings,  as  not  to  have  ex- 
pected that  when  she  became  bone  of  his  bone,  she 
should  feel  so  much  shame  and  anger  when  she  saw  his 
folly  expose  him  to  be  laughed  at  and  plundered,  or  so 
disgusted  when  his  brutality  became  intimately  connected 
with  herself.  It  is  true,  he  was  on  the  whole  rather  an 
innocent  monster;  and  between  bitting  and  bridling, 
coaxing  and  humouring,  might  have  been  made  to  pad  on 
well  enough.  But  an  unhappy  boggling  which  had  taken 
place  previous  to  the  declaration  of  their  private  mar- 
riage, had  so  exasperated  her  spirits  against  her  help- 
mate, that  modes  of  conciliation  were  the  last  she  was 
likely  to  adopt.  Not  only  had  the  assistance  of  the 
Scottish  Themis,  so  propitiously  indulgent  to  the  foibles 
of  the  fair,  been  resorted  to  on  the  occasion,  but   even 


ST.  ronan's  well.  93 

Mars  seemed  ready  to  enter  upon  the  tapis,  if  Hymen 
had  not  intervened.  There  was,  de  par  le  monde,  a 
certain  brother  of  the  lady — an  officer — and,  as  it  hap- 
pened, on  leave  of  absence, — who  alighted  from  a  hack- 
chaise  at  the  Fox  Hotel,  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night, 
holding  in  his  hand  a  slip  of  well-dried  oak,  accompanied 
by  another  gentleman,  who,  like  himself,  wore  a  military 
travelling-cap  and  a  black  stock  ;  out  of  the  said  chaise, 
as  was  reported  by  the  trusty  Toby,  was  handed  a  small 
reise-sac,  an  Andrea  Ferrara,  and  a  neat  mahogany  box, 
eighteen  inches  long,  three  deep,  and  some  six  broad. 
Next  morning  a  solemn  palaver  (as  the  natives  of  Mad- 
agascar call  their  national  convention)  was  held  at  an 
unusual  hour,  at  which  Captain  MacTurk  and  Mr.  Mow- 
bray assisted  ;  and  the  upshot  was,  that  at  breakfast  the 
company  were  made  happy  by  the  information,  that  Sir 
Bingo  had  been  for  some  weeks  the  happy  bridegroom 
of  their  general  favourite  ;  which  union,  concealed  for 
family  reasons,  he  was  now  at  liberty  to  acknowledge, 
and  to  fly  with  the  wings  of  love  to  bring  his  sorrowing 
turtle  from  the  shades  to  which  she  had  retired,  till  the 
obstacles  to  their  mutual  happiness  could  be  removed. 
Now,  though  all  this  sounded  very  smoothly,  that  gall- 
less  turtle,  Lady  Binks,  could  never  think  of  the  tenor 
of  the  proceedings  without  the  deepest  feelings  of  resent- 
ment and  contempt  for  the  principal  actor,  Sir  Bingo. 

Besides  all  these  unpleasant  circumstances,  Sir  Bingo's 
family  had  refused  to  countenance  her  wish  that  he  should 
bring  her  to  his  own  seat ;  and  hence  a  new  shock  to  her 
pride,  and  new  matter  of  contempt  against  poor  Sir 
Bingo,  for  being  ashamed  and  afraid  to  face  down  the 
opposition  of  his  kinsfolk,  for  whose  displeasure,  though 
never  attending  to  any  good  advice  from  them,  he  re- 
tained a  childish  awe. 


9  1  WAVEKLEY    NOVELS. 

The  manners  of  the  young  lady  were  no  less  changed 
than  was  her  temper;  and,  from  being  much  too  careless 
and  free,  were  become  reserved,  sullen,  and  haughty.  A 
consciousness  that  many  scrupled  to  hold  intercourse  with 
her  in  society,  rendered  her  disagreeably  tenacious  of  her 
rank,  and  jealous  of  every  thing  that  appeared  like 
neglect.  She  had  constituted  herself  mistress  of  Sir 
Bingo's  purse ;  and,  unrestrained  in  the  expenses  of 
dress  and  equipage,  chose,  contrary  to  her  maiden  prac- 
tice, to  be  rather  rich  and  splendid  than  gay,  and  to 
command  that  attention  by  magnificence,  which  she  no 
longer  deigned  to  solicit  by  rendering  herself  either 
agreeable  or  entertaining.  One  secret  source  of  her 
misery  was,  the  necessity  of  showing  deference  to  Lady 
Penelope  Penfeathei',  whose  understanding  she  despised, 
and  whose  pretensions  to  consequence,  to  patronage,  and 
to  literatui'e,  she  had  acuteness  enough  to  see  through, 
and  to  contemn  ;  and  this  dislike  was  the  more  grievous, 
that  she  felt  she  depended  a  good  deal  on  Lady  Pe- 
nelope's countenance  for  the  situation  she  was  able  to 
maintain  even  among  the  not  very  select  society  of  St. 
Eonan's  Well ;  and  that,  neglected  by  her,  she  must  have 
dropped  lower  in  the  scale  even  there.  Neither  was 
Lady  Penelope's  kindness  to  Lady  Binks  extremely 
cordial.  She  partook  in  the  ancient  and  ordinary  dislike 
of  single  nymphs  of  a  certain  age,  to  those  who  make 
splendid  alliances  under  their  very  eye — and  she  more 
than  suspected  the  secret  disaffection  of  the  lady.  But 
the  name  sounded  well ;  and  the  style  in  which  Lady 
Binks  lived  was  a  credit  to  the  place.  So  they  satisfied 
their  mutual  dislike  with  saying  a  few  sharp  things  to 
each  other  occasionally,  but  all  under  the  mask  of  civility. 

Such  was  Lady  Binks;  and  yet,  being  such,  her  dress, 


ST.  ronan's  well.  95 

and  her  equipage,  and  carriages,  were  the  envy  of  half 
the  Misses  at  the  Well,  who,  while  she  sat  disfiguring 
with  sullenness  her  very  lovely  face,  (for  it  was  as  beauti- 
ful as  her  shape  was  exquisite,)  only  thought  she  was 
proud  of  having  carried  her  point,  and  felt  herself,  with 
her  large  fortune  and  diamond  bandeau,  no  fit  company 
for  the  rest  of  the  party.  They  gave  way,  therefore, 
with  meekness  to  her  domineering  temper,  though  it  was 
not  the  less  tyrannical,  that  in  her  maiden  state  of  hoy- 
denhood,  she  had  been  to  some  of  them  an  object  of 
slight  and  of  censure  ;  and  Lady  Binks  had  not  forgotten 
the  offences  offered  to  Miss  Bonnyrigg.  But  the  fair 
sisterhood  submitted  to  her  retaliations,  as  lieutenants 
endure  the  bullying  of  a  rude  and  boisterous  captain  of 
the  sea,  with  the  secret  determination  to  pay  it  home  to 
their  underlings  when  they  shall  become  captains  them- 
selves. 

In  this  state  of  importance,  yet  of  penance,  Lady 
Binks  occupied  her  place  at  the  dinner-table,  alternately 
disconcerted  by  some  stupid  speech  of  her  lord  and 
master,  and  by  some  slight  sarcasm  from  Lady  Penelope, 
to  which  she  longed  to  reply,  but  dared  not. 

She  looked  from  time  to  time  at  her  neighbour,  Frank 
Tyrrel,  but  without  addressing  him,  and  accepted  in 
silence  the  usual  civilities  which  he  proffered  to  her. 
She  had  remarked  keenly  his  interview  with  Sir  Bingo, 
and  knowing  by  experience  the  manner  in  which  her 
honoured  lord  was  wont  to  retreat  from  a  dispute  in 
which  he  was  unsuccessful,  as  well  as  his  genius  for 
getting  into  such  perplexities,  she  had  little  doubt  that 
he  had  sustained  from  the  stranger  some  new  indignity  ; 
whom,  therefore,  she  regarded  with  a  mixture  of  feeling, 
scarce   knowing  whether   to   be   pleased    with    him   for 


96  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

having  given  pain  to  him  whom  she  hated,  or  angry  with 
him  for  having  affronted  one  in  whose  degradation  her 
own  was  necessarily  involved.  There  might  be  other 
thoughts — on  the  whole,  she  regarded  him  with  much 
though  with  mute  attention.  He  paid  her  but  little  in 
return,  being  almost  entirely  occupied  in  replying  to  the 
questions  of  the  engrossing  Lady  Penelope  Penfeather. 

Receiving  polite  though  rather  evasive  answers  to  her 
inquiries  concerning  his  late  avocations,  her  ladyship 
could  only  learn  that  Tyrrel  had  been  travelling  in 
several  remote  parts  of  Europe,  and  even  of  Asia.  Baf- 
fled, but  not  repulsed,  the  lady  continued  her  courtesy, 
by  pointing  out  to  him,  as  a  stranger,  several  individuals 
of  the  company  to  whom  she  proposed  introducing  him, 
as  persons  from  whose  society  he  might  derive  either 
profit  or  amusement.  In  the  midst  of  this  sort  of  con- 
versation, however,  she  suddenly  stopped  short. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me,  Mr.  Tyrrel,"  she  said?  "  if  I 
say  I  have  been  watching  your  thoughts  for  some  mo- 
ments, and  that  I  have  detected  you  ?  All  the  while  that 
I  have  been  talking  of  these  good  folks,  and  that  you  have 
been  making  such  civil  replies,  that  they  might  be  with 
great  propriety  and  utility  inserted  in  the  '  Familiar 
Dialogues,  teaching  foreigners  how  to  express  themselves 
in  English  upon  ordinary  occasions' — your  mind  has  been 
entirely  fixed  upon  that  empty  chair,  which  hath  re- 
mained there  opposite  betwixt  our  worthy  president  and 
Sir  Bingo  Binks." 

"  I  own,  madam,"  he  answered,  "  I  was  a  little  sur- 
prised at  seeing  such  a  distinguished  seat  unoccupied, 
while  the  table  is  rather  crowded." 

"  0,  confess  more,  sir  ! — Confess  that  to  a  poet  a  seat 
unoccupied — the  chair  of  Banquo — has  more  charms  than 


ST.  ronan's  well.  97 

if  it  were  filled  even  as  an  alderman  would  fill  it. — What 
if  '  the  Dark  Ladye'  *  should  glide  in  and  occupy  it  ? — 
"Would  you  have  courage  to  stand  the  vision,  Mr.  Tyrrel  ? 
— I  assure  you  the  thing  is  not  impossible." 

"  What  is  not  impossible,  Lady  Penelope  ? "  said 
Tyrrel,  somewhat  surprised. 

"Startled  already? — Nay,  then,  I  despair  of  your 
enduring  the  awful  interview." 

"  What  interview  ?  who  is  expected  ?  "  said  Tyrrel, 
unable  with  the  utmost  exertion  to  suppress  some  signs 
of  curiosity,  though  he  suspected  the  whole  to  be  merely 
some  mystification  of  her  ladyship. 

"  How  delighted  I  am,"  she  said,  "  that  I  have  found 

out  where  you  are  vulnerable  ! — Expected — did   I   say 

expected  ? — no,  not  expected. 

'  She  glides,  like  Night,  from  land  to  land, 
She  hath  strange  power  of  speech.' 

— But  come,  I  have  you  at  my  mercy,  and  I  will  be 
generous  and  explain. — We  call — that  is,  among  our- 
selves, you  understand — Miss  Clara  Mowbray,  the  sister 
of  that  gentleman  that  sits  next  to  Miss  Parker,  the  Dark 
Ladye,  and  that  seat  is  left  for  her. — For  she  was  ex- 
pected— no,  not  expected — I  forget  again  ! — but  it  was 
thought  possible  she  might  honour  us  to-day,  when  our 
feast  was  so  full  and  piquant. — Her  brother  is  our  Lord 
of  the  Manor — and  so  they  pay  her  that  sort  of  civility  to 

*  The  Dark  Ladye  is  one  of  those  tantalizing  fragments  in  which 
Mr.  Coleridge  has  shown  us  what  exquisite  powers  of  poetry  he  has 
suffered  to  remain  uncultivated.  Let  us  be  thankful  for  what  we  have 
received,  however.  The  unfashioned  ore,  drawn  from  so  rich  a  mine, 
is  worth  all  to  which  art  can  add  its  highest  decorations,  when  drawn 
from  less  abundant  sources.  The  verses  beginning  the  poem  which 
are  published  separately,  are  said  to  have  soothed  the  last  hours  of  Mr. 
Fox.     They  are  the  stanzas  entitled  Love. 

VOL.  XXXIII.  7 


98  WAVKKLEY    NOVELS. 

regard  her  as  a  visitor — and  neither  Lady  Binks  nor  I 
think  of  objecting — She  is  a  singular  young  person, 
Clara  Mowbray — she  amuses  me  very  much — I  am 
always  rather  glad  to  see  her." 

"  She  is  not  to  come  hither  to-day,"  said  Tyrrel ;  "  am 
I  so  to  understand  your  ladyship  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  is  past  her  time — even  her  time,"  said  Lady 
Penelope — "  dinner  was  kept  back  half  an  hour,  and 
our  poor  invalids  were  famishing,  as  you  may  see  by  the 
deeds  they  have  done  since. — But  Clara  is  an  odd  crea- 
ture, and  if  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  come  hither  at 
this  moment,  hither  she  would  come — she  is  very  whim- 
sical.— Many  people  think  her  handsome — but  she  looks 
so  like  something  from  another  world,  that  she  makes  me 
always  think  of  Mat  Lewis's  Spectre  Lady." 

And  she  repeated  with  much  cadence, 

"  '  There  is  a  thing — there  is  a  thing, 
I  fain  would  have  from  thee; 
I  fain  would  have  that  gay  gold  ring, 
0  warrior,  give  it  me ! ' 

"  And  then  you  remember  his  answer : — 

'  This  ring  Lord  Brooke  from  his  daughter  took, 
And  a  solemn  oath  he  swore, 
That  that  ladye  my  bride  should  be 
When  this  crusade  was  o'er.' 

You  do  figures  as  well  as  landscapes,  I  suppose,  Mr. 
Tyrrel? — You  shall  make  a  sketch  for  me — a  slight 
thing — for  sketches,  I  think,  show  the  freedom  of  art 
better  than  finished  pieces — I  dote  on  the  first  corusca- 
tions of  genius — flashing  like  lightning  from  the  cloud ! 
You  shall  make  a  sketch  for  my  own  boudoir — my  dear 
sulky  den  at  Air  Castle,  and  Clara  Mowbray  shall  sit 
for  the  Ghost  Ladye." 


st.  bonan's  well.  99 

"  That  would  be  but  a  poor  compliment  to  your  lady- 
ship's friend,"  replied  Tyrrel. 

"  Friend  ?  We  don't  get  quite  that  length,  though  I 
like  Clara  very  well. — Quite  sentimental  cast  of  face, — I 
think  I  saw  an  antique  in  the  Louvre  very  like  her — (I 
was  there  in  1800) — quite  an  antique  countenance — eyes 
something  hollowed — care  has  dug  caves  for  them,  but 
they  are  caves  of  the  most  beautiful  marble  arched  with 
jet — a  straight  nose,  and  absolutely  the  Grecian  mouth 
and  chin — a  profusion  of  long  straight  black  hair,  with 
the  whitest  skin  you  ever  saw — as  white  as  the  whitest 
parchment — and  not  a  shade  of  colour  in  her  cheek — 
none  whatever — If  she  would  be  naughty,  and  borrow  a 
prudent  touch  of  complexion,  she  might  be  called  beauti- 
ful. Even  as  it  is,  many  think  her  so,  although  surely, 
Mr.  Tyrrel,  three  colours  are  necessary  to  the  female 
face.  However,  we  used  to  call  her  the  Melpomene  of 
the  Spring  last  season,  as  we  called  Lady  Binks — who 
was  not  then  Lady  Binks — our  Euphrosyne — Did  we 
not,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Did  we  not  what,  madam  ?  "  said  Lady  Binks,  in  a 
tone  something  sharper  than  ought  to  have  belonged  to 
so  beautiful  a  countenance. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  have  started  you  out  of  your  reverie, 
my  love,"  answered  Lady  Penelope.  "  I  was  only  as- 
suring Mr.  Tyrrel  that  you  were  once  Euphrosyne, 
though  now  so  much  under  the  banners  of  II  Penseroso." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  been  either  one  or  the 
other,"  answered  Lady  Binks  ;  "  one  thing  I  certainly 
am  not — I  am  not  capable  of  understanding  your  lady- 
ship's wit  and  learning." 

"  Poor  soul,"  whispered  Lady  Penelope  to  Tyrrel ; 
"  we  know  what  we  are,  Ave  know  not  what  we  may  be. 


100  "WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

— And  now,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  I  have  been  your  sibyl  to  guide 
you  through  this  Elysium  of  ours,  I  think,  in  reward,  I 
deserve  a  little  confidence  in  return." 

"  If  I  had  any  to  bestow,  which  could  be  in  the  slight- 
est degree  interesting  to  your  ladyship,"  answered  Tyrrel. 

"  Oh  !  cruel  man — he  will  not  understand  me  ! "  ex- 
claimed the  lady — "In  plain  words,  then,  a  peep  into 
your  portfolio — just  to  see  what  objects  you  have  rescued 
from  natural  decay,  and  rendered  immortal  by  the  pencil. 
You  do  not  know — indeed,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  you  do  not  know 
how  I  dote  upon  your  'serenely  silent  art,'  second  to 
poetry  alone — equal — superior  perhaps — to  music." 

"  I  really  have  little  that  could  possibly  be  worth  the 
attention  of  such  a  judge  as  your  ladyship,"  answered 
Tyrrel;  "  such  trifles  as  your  ladyship  has  seen,  I  some- 
times leave  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  I  have  been  sketching." 

"  As  Orlando,  left  his  verses  in  the  Forest  of  Ar- 
dennes ? — 0,  the  thoughtless  prodigality  ! — Mr.  Winter- 
blossom,  do  you  hear  this  ? — We  must  follow  Mr.  Tyr- 
rel in  his  walks,  and  glean  what  he  leaves  behind 
him." 

Her  ladyship  was  here  disconcerted  by  some  laughter 
on  Sir  Bingo's  side  of  the  table,  which  she  chastised  by 
an  angry  glance,  and  then  proceeded  emphatically. 

"  Mr.  Tyrrel,  this  must  not  be — this  is  not  the  way  of 
the  world,  my  good  sir,  to  which  even  Genius  must  stoop 
its  flight.  We  must  consult  the  engraver — though  per- 
haps you  etch  as  well  as  you  draw  ?  " 

"  I  should  suppose  so,"  said  Mr.  Winterblossom,  edg- 
ing in  a  word  with  difficulty,  "  from  the  freedom  of  Mr. 
Tyrrel's  touch." 

"  I  will  not  deny  my  having  spoiled  a  little  copper 
now  and  then,"  said  Tyrrel,  "  since  I  am   charged  with 


ST.  ronan's  well.  101 

the  crime  by  such  good  judges  ;  but  it  has  only  been  by 
way  of  experiment." 

"  Say  no  more,"  said  the  lady ;  "  my  darling  wish  is  ac- 
complished ! — We  have  long  desired  to  have  the  remark- 
able and  most  romantic  spots  of  our  little  Arcadia  here — 
spots  consecrated  to  friendship,  the  fine  arts,  the  loves 
and  the  graces,  immortalized  by  the  graver's  art,  faithful 
to  its  charge  of  fame — you  shall  labour  on  this  task,  Mr. 
Tyrrel ;  we  will  all  assist  with  notes  and  illustrations — 
we  will  all  contribute — only  some  of  us  must  be  per- 
mitted to  remain  anonymous — Fairy  favours,  you  know, 
Mr.  Tyrrel,  must  be  kept  secret — And  you  shall  be 
allowed  the  pillage  of  the  Album — some  sweet  things 
there  of  Mr.  Chatterly's — and  Mr.  Edgeit,  a  gentleman 
of  your  own  profession,  I  am  sure  will  lend  his  aid — Dr. 
Quackleben  will  contribute  some  scientific  notices. — And 
for  subscription  " 

"  Financial — financial — your  leddyship,  I  speak  to 
order ! "  said  the  writer,  interrupting  Lady  Penelope 
with  a  tone  of  impudent  familiarity,  which  was  meant 
doubtless  for  jocular  ease. 

"  How  am  I  out  of  order,  Mr.  Meiklewham  ?  "  said 
her  ladyship,  drawing  herself  up. 

"  I  speak  to  order ! — No  warrants  for  money  can  be 
extracted  before  intimation  to  the  Committee  of  Man- 
agement." 

"  Pray  who  mentioned  money,  Mr.  Meiklewham  ?  " 
said  her  ladyship. — "  That  wretched  old  pettifogger,"  she 
added  in  a  whisper  to  Tyrrel,  "  thinks  of  nothing  else 
but  the  filthy  pelf." 

"Ye  spake  of  subscription,  my  leddy,  whilk  is  the 
same  thing  as  money,  differing  only  in  respect  of  time — 
the  subscription  being  a  contract  defuturo,  and  having  a 


102  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

tractus  temporis  in  gremio — And  I  have  kend  mony 
honest  folks  in  the  company  at  the  Well,  complain  of  the 
subscriptions  as  a  great  abuse,  as  obliging  them  either  to 
look  unlike  other  folk,  or  to  gie  good  lawful  coin  for  bal- 
lants  and  picture-books,  and  things  they  caredna  a  pinch 
of  snuff  for." 

Several  of  the  company  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table, 
assented  both  by  nods  and  murmurs  of  approbation ;  and 
the  orator  was  about  to  proceed,  when  Tyrrel  with  diffi- 
culty procured  a  hearing  before  the  debate  went  farther, 
and  assured  the  company  that  her  ladyship's  goodness 
had  led  her  into  an  error ;  that  he  had  no  work  in  hand 
worthy  of  their  patronage,  and,  with  the  deepest  grati- 
tude for  Lady  Penelope's  goodness,  had  it  not  in  his 
power  to  comply  with  her  request.  There  was  some  tit- 
tering at  her  ladyship's  expense,  who,  as  the  writer  slyly 
observed,  had  been  something  ultroneous  in  her  patron- 
age. Without  attempting  for  the  moment  any  rally,  (as 
indeed  the  time  which  had  passed  since  the  removal  of 
the  dinner  scarce  permitted  an  opportunity,)  Lady  Pe- 
nelope gave  the  signal  for  the  ladies'  retreat,  and  left  the 
gentlemen  to  the  circulation  of  the  bottle. 


ST.    ROXAX'S    WELL.  103 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE    TEA-TABLE. 

While  the  cups, 

Which  cheer,  but  not  inebriate,  wait  on  each. 

Cowpeh. 

It  was  common  at  the  Well,  for  the  fair  guests  occa- 
sionally to  give  tea  to  the  company, — such  at  least  as, 
from  their  rank  and  leading  in  the  little  society,  might 
be  esteemed  fit  to  constitute  themselves  patronesses  of  an 
evening ;  and  the  same  lady  generally  carried  the  author- 
ity she  had  acquired  into  the  ball-room,  where  two  fiddles 
and  a  bass,  at  a  guinea  a  night,  with  a  quantum  sufficit  of 
tallow-candles,  (against  the  use  of  which  Lady  Penelope 
often  mutinied,)  enabled  the  company — to  use  the  appro- 
priate phrase — "  to  close  the  evening  on  the  light  fantas- 
tic toe." 

On  the  present  occasion,  the  lion  of  the  hour,  Mr. 
Francis  Tyrrel,  had  so  little  answered  the  high-wrought 
expectations  of  Lady  Penelope,  that  she  rather  regretted 
having  ever  given  herself  any  trouble  about  him,  and 
particularly  that  of  having  manoeuvred  herself  into  the 
patronage  of  the  tea-table  for  the  evening,  to  the  great 
expenditure  of  souchong  and  congo.  Accordingly,  her 
ladyship  had  no  sooner  summoned  her  own  woman,  and 
her  fille  de  chambre,  to  make  tea,  with  her  page,  footman, 


104  WAVEKI.KY    NOVELS. 

and  postilion,  to  hand  it  about,  (in  which  fluty  they  were 
assisted  by  two  richly  laced  and  thickly  powdered  foot- 
men of  Lady  Binks's,  whose  liveries  put  to  shame  the 
more  modest  garb  of  Lady  Penelope's,  and  even  dimmed 
the  glory  of  the  suppressed  coronet  upon  the  buttons,) 
than  she  began  to  vilipend  and  depreciate  what  had  been 
so  long  the  object  of  her  curiosity. 

"This  Mr.  Tyrrel,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  authoritative 
decision,  "  seems  after  all  a  very  ordinary  sort  of  person 
— quite  a  commonplace  man,  who,  she  dared  say,  had 
considered  his  condition,  in  going  to  the  old  ale-house, 
much  better  than  they  had  done  for  him,  when  they  asked 
him  to  the  Public  Rooms.  He  had  known  his  own  place 
better  than  they  did — there  was  nothing  uncommon  in  his 
appearance  or  conversation — nothing  at  all  frappant — 
she  scarce  believed  he  could  even  draw  that  sketch.  Mr. 
Winterblossom,  indeed,  made  a  great  deal  of  it ;  but  then 
all  the  world  knew  that  every  scrap  of  engraving  or  draw- 
ing, which  Mr.  Winterblossom  contrived  to  make  his  own, 
was,  the  instant  it  came  into  his  collection,  the  finest  thing 
that  ever  was  seen — that  was  the  way  with  collectors — 
their  geese  were  all  swans." 

"And  your  ladyship's  swan  has  proved  but  a  goose, 
my  dearest  Lady  Pen,"  said  Lady  Binks. 

"  My  swan,  dearest  Lady  Binks  !  T  really  do  not  know 
how  I  have  deserved  the  appropriation." 

"  Do  not  be  angry,  my  dear  Lady  Penelope ;  I  only 
mean,  that  for  a  fortnight  and  more  you  have  spoken 
constantly  of  this  Mr.  Tyrrel,  and  all  dinner-time  you 
spoke  to  him." 

The  fair  company  began  to  collect  around,  at  hearing 
the  word  dear  so  often  repeated  in  the  same  brief  dia- 
logue, which  induced  them  to  expect  sport,  and,  like  the 


ST.  ronan's  -well.  105 

vulgar  on  a  similar  occasion,  to  form  a  ring  for  the  ex- 
pected combatants. 

"  He  sat  betwixt  us,  Lady  Binks,"  answered  Lady 
Penelope,  with  dignity.  "  You  had  your  usual  headach, 
you  know,  and  for  the  credit  of  the  company,  I  spoke  for 
one." 

"  For  two,  if  your  ladyship  pleases,"  replied  Lady 
Binks.  "  I  mean,"  she  added,  softening  the  expression, 
"  for  yourself  and  me." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Lady  Penelope,  "I  should  have 
spoken  for  one  who  can  speak  so  smartly  for  herself,  as 
my  dear  Lady  Binks — I  did  not,  by  any  means,  desire  to 
engross  the  conversation — I  repeat  it,  there  is  a  mistake 
about  this  man." 

"  I  think  there  is,"  said  Lady  Binks,  in  a  tone  which 
implied  something  more  than  mere  assent  to  Lady  Pe- 
nelope's proposition. 

"  I  doubt  if  he  is  an  artist  at  all,"  said  the  Lady  Pe- 
nelope ;  "  or  if  he  is,  he  must  be  doing  things  for  some 
Magazine,  or  Encyclopedia,  or  some  such  matter." 

"  /  doubt,  too,  if  he  be  a  professional  artist,"  said  Lady 
Binks.  "  If  so,  he  is  of  the  very  highest  class,  for  I  have 
seldom  seen  a  better-bred  man." 

"  There  are  very  well-bred  artists,"  said  Lady  Pe- 
nelope.    "  It  is  the  profession  of  a  gentleman." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Lady  Binks ;  "  but  the  poorer 
class  have  often  to  struggle  with  poverty  and  dependence. 
In  general  society,  they  are  like  commercial  people  in 
presence  of  their  customers  ;  and  that  is  a  difficult  part 
to  sustain.  And  so  you  see  them  of  all  sorts — shy  and 
reserved,  when  they  are  consciuus  of  merit — petulant  and 
whimsical,  by  way  of  showing  their  independence — intru- 
sive, in  order  to  appear  easy — and  sometimes  obsequious 


106  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

and  fawning,  when  they  chance  to  be  of  a  mean  spirit. 
But  you  seldom  see  them  quite  at  their  ease,  and  there- 
fore I  hold  this  Mr.  Tyrrel  to  be  either  an  artist  of  the 
first  class,  raised  completely  above~ the  necessity  and  deg- 
radation of  patronage,  or  else  to  be  no  professional  artist 
at  all." 

Lady  Penelope  looked  at  Lady  Binks  with  much  such 
a  regard  as  Balaam  may  have  cast  upon  his  ass,  when  he 
discovered  the  animal's  capacity  for  holding  an  argument 
with  him.     She  muttered  to  herself — 

"  Mm.  dne  park,  et  meme  il parle  Men!" 

But  declining  the  altercation  which  Lady  Binks  seemed 
disposed  to  enter  into,  she  replied  with  good-humour, 
"  Well,  dearest  Rachel,  we  will  not  pull  caps  about  this 
man — nay,  I  think  your  good  opinion  of  him  gives  him 
new  value  in  my  eyes.  That  is  always  the  way  with  us, 
my  good  friend!  We  may  confess  it,  when  there  are 
none  of  these  conceited  male  wretches  among  us.  We 
will  know  what  he  really  is — he  shall  not  wear  fern- 
seed,  and  walk  among  us  invisible  thus — what  say  you, 
Maria  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  say,  dear  Lady  Penelope,"  answered  Miss 
Digges,  whose  ready  chatter  we  have  already  introduced 
to  the  reader,  "  he  is  a  very  handsome  man,  though  his 
nose  is  too  big,  and  his  mouth  too  wide — but  his  teeth  are 
like  pearl — and  he  has  such  eyes  ! — especially  when  your 
ladyship  spoke  to  him.  I  don't  think  you  looked  at  his 
eyes — they  are  quite  deep  and  dark,  and  full  of  glow, 
like  what  you  read  to  us  in  the  letter  from  that  lady, 
about  Robert  Burns." 

"  Upon  my  word,  miss,  you  come  on  finely,"  said  Lady 
Penelope. — "  One  had  need  take  care  what  they  read  or 


ST.    RONAN'S    "WELL.  107 

talk  about  before  you,  I  see — Come,  Jones,  have  mercy 
upon  us — put  an  end  to  that  symphony  of  tinkling  cups 
and  saucers,  and  let  the  first  act  of  the  tea-table  begin,  if 
you  please." 

"  Does  her  leddyship  mean  the  grace,"  said  honest  Mrs. 
Blower,  for  the  first  time  admitted  into  this  worshipful 
society,  and  busily  employed  in  arranging  an  Indian 
handkerchief,  that  might  have  made  a  mainsail  for  one  of 
her  husband's  smuggling  luggers,  which  she  spread  care- 
fully on  her  knee,  to  prevent  damage  to  a  flowered  black 
silk  gown  from  the  repast  of  tea  and  cake,  to  which  she 
proposed  to  do  due  honour, — "  Does  her  leddyship  mean 
the  grace  ?  I  see  the  minister  is  just  coming  in. — Her 
leddyship  waits  till  ye  say  a  blessing,  an  ye  please,  sir." 

Mr.  Winterblossom,  who  toddled  after  the  chaplain,  his 
toe  having  given  him  an  alert  hint  to  quit  the  dining- 
table,  though  he  saw  every  feature  in  the  poor  woman's 
face  swollen  with  desire  to  procure  information  concern- 
ing the  ways  and  customs  of  the  place,  passed  on  the 
other  side  of  the  way,  regardless  of  her  agony  of  curi- 
osity. 

A  moment  after,  she  was  relieved  by  the  entrance  of 
Dr.  Quackleben,  whose  maxim  being,  that  one  patient 
was  as  well  worth  attention  as  another,  and  who  knew  by 
experience,  that  the  honoraria  of  a  godly  wife  of  the 
Bow-head  were  as  apt  to  be  forthcoming  (if  not  more 
so)  as  my  Lady  Penelope's,  he  e'en  sat  himself  quietly 
down  by  Mrs.  Blower,  and  proceeded  with  the  utmost 
kindness  to  inquire  after  her  health,  and  to  hope  she  had 
not  forgotten  Uiking  a  table-spoonful  of  spirits  burnt  to  a 
residuum,  in  order  to  qualify  the  crudities. 

"  Indeed,  Doctor,"  said  the  honest  woman,  "  I  loot  the 
brandy  burn  as  lang  as  I  dought  look  at  the  gude  creature 


108  WAVERLET   NOVELS. 

wasting  its  sell  that  gate — and  then,  when  I  was  fain  to 
put  it  out  for  very  thrift,  I  did  take  a  thimbleful  of  it, 
(although  it  is  not  the  thing  I  am  used  to,  Dr.  Quackle- 
ben,)  and  I  winna  say  but  that,  it  did  me  good." 

"  Unquestionably,  madam,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  I  am 
no  friend  to  the  use  of  alcohol  in  general,  but  there  are 
particular  cases — there  are  particular  cases,  Mrs.  Blower 
— My  venerated  instructor,  one  of  the  greatest  men  in 
our  profession  that  ever  lived,  took  a  wine-glassful  of  old 
rum,  mixed  with  sugar,  every  day  after  his  dinner." 

"  Ay  ?  dear  heart,  he  would  be  a  comfortable  doctor 
that,"  said  Mrs.  Blower.  "  He  wad  maybe  ken  some- 
thing of  my  case.     Is  he  living,  think  ye,  sir  ?  " 

"  Dead  for  many  years,  madam,"  said  Dr.  Quackleben  ; 
"  and  there  are  but  few  of  his  pupils  that  can  fill  his  place, 
I  assure  ye.  If  I  could  be  thought  an  exception,  it  is 
only  because  I  was  a  favourite.  Ah  !  blessings  on  the 
old  red  cloak  of  him ! — It  covered  more  of  the  healing 
science  than  the  gowns  of  a  whole  modern  university." 

"  There  is  ane,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Blower,  "  that  has  been 
muckle  recommended  about  Edinburgh — Macgregor,  I 
think  they  ca'  him — folk  come  far  and  near  to  see 
him."  * 

"  I  know  whom  you  mean,  ma'am — a  clever  man — no 
denying  it — a  clever  man — but  there  are  certain  cases — 
yours,  for  example — and  I  think  that  of  many  that  come 
to  drink  this  water — which  I  cannot  say  I  think  he  per- 
fectly understands — hasty — very  hasty  and  rapid.  Now 
I — I  give  the  disease  its  own  way  at  first — then  watch  it, 
Mrs.  Blower — watch  the  turn  of  the  tide." 

*  The  late  Dr.  Gregory  is  probably  intimated,  as  one  of  the  cele- 
brated Dr.  Cullen's  personal  habits  is  previously  mentioned.  Dr. 
Gregory  was  distinguished  for  putting  his  patients  on  a  severe 
regimen. 


ST.  ronan's  well.  109 

"  Ay,  troth,  that's  true,"  responded  the  widow  ;  "  John 
Blower  was  aye  watching  turn  of  tide,  puir  man." 

"  Then  he  is  a  starving  Doctor,  Mrs.  Blower — reduces 
diseases  as  soldiers  do  towns — by  famine,  not  considering 
that  the  friendly  inhabitants  suffer  as  much  as  the  hostile 
garrison — ahem  !  " 

Here  he  gave  an  important  and  emphatic  cough,  and 
then  proceeded. 

"  I  am  no  friend  either  to  excess  or  to  violent  stimulus, 
Mrs.  Blower — but  nature  must  be  supported — a  generous 
diet — cordials  judiciously  thrown  in — not  without  the 
advice  of  a  medical  man — that  is  my  opinion,  Mrs. 
Blower,  to  speak  as  a  friend — others  may  starve  their 
patients  if  they  have  a  mind." 

"  It  wadna  do  for  me,  the  starving,  Dr.  Keekerben," 
said  the  alarmed  relict, — "  it  wadna  do  for  me  at  a' — Just 
a'  I  can  do  to  wear  through  the  day  with  the  sma'  sup- 
ports that  nature  requires — not  a  soul  to  look  after  me, 
Doctor,  since  John  Blower  was  ta'en  awa. — Thank  ye 
kindly,  sir,"  (to  the  servant  who  handed  the  tea,) — 
"  thank  ye,  my  bonny  man,"  (to  the  page  who  served  the 
cake) — "  Now,  dinna  ye  think,  Doctor,"  (in  a  low  and 
confidential  voice,)  "  that  her  leddyship's  tea  is  rather 
of  the  weakliest — water  bewitched,  I  think — and  Mrs. 
Jones,  as  they  ca'  her,  has  cut  the  seed-cake  very  thin  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  fashion,  Mrs.  Blower,"  answered  Dr.  Quack- 
leben  ;  "  and  her  ladyship's  tea  is  excellent.  But  your 
taste  is  a  little  chilled,  which  is  not  uncommon  at  the 
first  use  of  the  waters,  so  that  you  are  not  sensible  of 
the  flavour — we  must  support  the  system — reinforce  the 
digestive  powers — give  me  leave — you  are  a  stranger, 
Mrs.  Blower,  and  we  must  take  care  of  you — I  have  an 
elixir  which  will  put  that  matter  to  rights  in  a  moment." 


110  WWERLEY   NOVELS. 

So  saying,  Dr.  Quackleben  pulled  from  his  pocket  a 
small  portable  case  of  medicines — "  Catch  me  without 
my  tools" — he  said  ;  "  here  I  have  the  real  useful  phar- 
macopoeia— the  rest  is  all  humbug  and  hard  names — this 
little  case,  with  a  fortnight  or  month,  spring  and  fall,  at 
St.  Ronan's  Well,  and  no  one  will  die  till  his  day  come." 

Thus  boasting,  the  Doctor  drew  from  his  case  a  large 
vial  or  small  flask,  full  of  a  high  coloured  liquid,  of  which 
he  mixed  three  tea-spoonfuls  in  Mrs.  Blower's  cup,  who 
immediately  afterwards  allowed  that  the  flavour  was  im- 
proved beyond  all  belief,  and  that  it  was  "  vera  comforta- 
ble and  i-estorative  indeed." 

"  Will  it  not  do  good  to  my  complaints,  Doctor  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Winterblossom,  who  had  strolled  towards  them,  and 
held  out  his  cup  to  the  physician. 

"  I  by  no  means  recommend  it,  Mr.  Winterblossom," 
said  Dr.  Quackleben,  shutting  up  his  case  with  great 
coolness  ;  "your  case  is  cedematous,  and  you  treat  it  your 
own  way — you  are  as  good  a  physician  as  I  am,  and  I 
never  interfere  with  another  practitioner's  patient." 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  said  Winterblossom,  "  I  must  wait 
till  Sir  Bingo  comes  in — he  has  a  hunting-flask  usually 
about  him,  which  contains  as  good  medicine  as  yours  to 
the  full." 

"  You  will  wait  for  Sir  Bingo  some  time,"  said  the 
Doctor,  "  he  is  a  gentleman  of  sedentary  habits — he  has 
ordered  another  magnum." 

"  Sir  Bingo  is  an  unco  name  for  a  man  o'  quality, 
dinna  ye  think  sae,  Dr.  Cocklehen  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Blower. 
"  John  Blower,  when  he  was  a  wee  bit  in  the  wind's  eye, 
as  he  ca'd  it,  puir  fallow — used  to  sing  a  sang  about  a 
dog  they  ca'd  Bingo,  that  suld  hae  belanged  to  a  farmer." 

"  Our  Bingo  is  but  a  puppy  yet,  madam — or  if  a  dog 


ST.  roxan's  well.  Ill 

lie  is  a  sad  dog,"  said  Mr.  Winterblossom,  applauding  bis 
own  wit,  by  one  of  his  own  inimitable  smiles. 

"  Or  a  mad  dog,  rather,"  said  Mr.  Chatterly,  "  for  he 
drinks  no  water ; "  and  he  also  smiled  gracefully  at  the 
thoughts  of  having  trumped,  as  it  were,  the  president's 
pun. 

"  Twa  pleasant  men,  Doctor,"  said  the  widow,  "  and 
so  is  Sir  Bungy  too,  for  that  matter ;  but  O !  is  nae  it  a 
pity  he  should  bide  sae  lang  by  the  bottle  ?  It  was  puir 
John  Blower's  fault  too,  that  weary  tippling  ;  when  he 
wan  to  the  lee-side  of  a  bowl  of  punch,  there  was  nae 
raising  him. — But  they  are  taking  awa  the  things,  and, 
Doctor,  is  it  not  an  awfu'  thing,  that  the  creature  com- 
forts should  hae  been  used  without  grace  or  thanksgiv- 
ing ? — that  Mr.  Chitterling,  if  he  really  be  a  minister, 
has  muckle  to  answer  for,  that  he  neglects  his  Master's 
service." 

"  Why,  madam,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  Mr.  Chatterly  is 
scarce  arrived  at  the  rank  of  a  minister  plenipotentiary." 

"  A  minister  potentiary — ah,  Doctor,  I  doubt  that  is 
some  jest  of  yours,"  said  the  widow  ;  "  that's  sae  like  puir 
John  Blower.  When  I  wad  hae  had  him  gie  up  the 
Lovely  Peggy,  ship  and  cargo,  (the  vessel  was  named 
after  me,  Doctor  Kittleben,)  to  be  remembered  in  the 
prayers  o'  the  congregation,  he  wad  sae  to  me,  '  they  may 
pray  that  stand  the  risk,  Peggy  Bryce,  for  I've  made  in- 
surance.' He  was  a  merry  man,  Doctor ;  but  he  had  the 
root  of  the  matter  in  him,  for  a'  his  light  way  of  speak- 
ing, as  deep  as  ony  skipper  that  ever  loosed  anchor  from 
Leith  Roads.  I  hae  been  a  forsaken  creature  since  his 
death — O  the  weary  days  and  nights  that  1  have  had ! 
— and  the  weight  on  the  spirits — the  spirits,  Doctor  ! — 
though  I  canna  say  I  hae  been  easier  since  I   hae  been 


112  AYAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

at  the  Wall  than  oven  now — if  I  kend  what  I  was  awing 
ye  for  eliekstir,  Doctor,  for  it's  done  Hie  muckle  heart's 
good,  forhy  the  opening  of  my  mind  to  you  ?  " 

"  Fie,  fie,  ma'am,"  said  the  Doctor,  as  the  widow  pulled 
out  a  sealskin  pouch,  such  as  sailors  carry  tobacco  in, 
but  apparently  well  stuffed  with  bank-notes, — "  Fie,  fie, 
madam — I  am  no  apothecary — I  have  my  diploma  from 
Leyden — a  regular  physician,  madam, — the  elixir  is 
heartily  at  your  service  ;  and  should  you  want  any  ad- 
vice, no  man  will  be  prouder  to  assist  you  than  your 
humble  servant." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  muckle  obliged  to  your  kindness,  Dr. 
Kickalpin,"  said  the  widow,  folding  up  her  pouch  ;  "  this 
was  puir  John  Blower's  spleuchan,*  as  they  ca'  it — I 
e'en  wear  it  for  his  sake.  He  was  a  kind  man,  and  left 
me  comfortable  in  warld's  gudes  ;  but  comforts  hae  their 
cumbers, — to  be  a  lone  woman  is  a  sair  weird,  Dr.  Kit- 
tlepin." 

Dr.  Quackleben  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer  that  of 
the  widow,  and  entered  into  a  closer  communication  with 
her,  in  a  tone  doubtless  of  more  delicate  consolation  than 
was  fit  for  the  ears  of  the  company  at  large. 

One  of  the  chief  delights  of  a  watering-place  is,  that 
every  one's  affairs  seem  to  be  put  under  the  special  suz*- 
veillance  of  the  whole  company,  so  that,  in  all  probability, 
the  various  flirtations,  liaisons,  and  so  forth,  which  natur- 
ally take  place  in  the  society,  are  not  only  the  subject  of 
amusement  to  the  parties  engaged,  but  also  to  the  lookers 
on  ;  that  is  to  say,  generally  speaking,  to  the  whole 
community,  of  which  for  the  time  the  said  parties  are 
members.  Lady  Penelope,  the  presiding  goddess  of  the 
region,  watchful  over  all  her  circle,  was  not  long  of  ob- 
*  A  fur  pouch  for  keeping  tobacco. 


ST.  ronan's  avell.  113 

serving  that  the  Doctor  seemed  to  be  suddenly  engaged 
in  close  communication  with  the  widow,  and  that  he  had 
even  ventured  to  take  hold  of  her  fair  plump  hand,  with 
a  manner  which  partook  at  once  of  the  gallant  suitor,  and 
of  the  medical  adviser. 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven,"  said  her  ladyship,  "  who 
can  that  comely  dame  be,  on  whom  our  excellent  and 
learned  Doctor  looks  with  such  uncommon  regard  ?  " 

"  Fat,  fair,  and  forty,"  said  Mr.  Winterblossom ;  "  that 
is  all  I  know  of  her — a  mercantile  person." 

"  A  carrack,  Sir  President,"  said  the  chaplain,  "  richly 
laden  with  colonial  produce,  by  name  the  Lovely  Peggy 
Bryce — no  master — the  late  John  Blower  of  North  Leith 
having  pushed  off  his  boat  for  the  Stygian  Creek,  and 
left  the  vessel  without  a  hand  on  board." 

"  The  Doctor,"  said  Lady  Penelope,  turning  her  glass 
towards  them,  "  seems  willing  to  play  the  part  of  pilot." 

"  I  dare  say  he  will  be  willing  to  change  her  name  and 
register,"  said  Mr.  Chatterly. 

"  He  can  be  no  less  in  common  requital,"  said  Winter- 
blossom.  "  She  has  changed  his  name  six  times  in  the 
five  minutes  that  I  stood  within  hearing  of  them." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  matter,  my  dear  Lady 
Binks  ?  "  said  Lady  Penelope. 

"  Madam  ?  "  said  Lady  Binks,  starting  from  a  reverie, 
and  answering  as  one  who  either  had  not  heard,  or  did 
not  understand  the  question. 

"  I  mean,  what  think  you  of  what  is  going  on  yonder  ?  " 

Lady  Binks  turned  her  glass  in  the  direction  of  Lady 
Penelope's  glance,  fixed  the  widow  and  the  Doctor  with 
one  bold  fashionable  stare,  and  then  dropping  her  hand 
slowly,  said  with  indifference,  "  I  really  see  nothing  there 
worth  thinking  about." 

vol.  xxxm.  8 


114  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

"  I  dare  say  it  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  married,"  said  Lady 
Penelope ;  "  one's  thoughts,  I  suppose,  are  so  much 
engrossed  with  one's  own  perfect  happiness,  that  they 
have  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  laugh  like  other  folks. 
Miss  Rachel  Bonnyrigg  would  have  laughed  till  her  eyes 
ran  over,  had  she  seen  what  Lady  Binks  cares  so  little 
about — I  dare  say  it  must  be  an  all-sufficient  happiness 
to  be  married." 

"  He  would  be  a  happy  man  that  could  convince  your 
ladyship  of  that  in  good  earnest,"  said  Mr.  Winter- 
blossom. 

"  Oh,  who  knows — the  whim  may  strike  me,"  replied 
the  lady ;  "  but  no — no — no  ; — and  that  is  three  times." 

"  Say  it  sixteen  times  more,"  said  the  gallant  president, 
"  and  let  nineteen  nay-says  be  a  grant." 

"  If  I  should  say  a  thousand  Noes,  there  exists  not  the 
alchymy  in  living  man  that  could  extract  one  Yes,  out  of 
the  whole  mass,"  said  her  ladyship.  "  Blessed  be  the 
memory  of  Queen  Bess  ! — She  set  us  all  an  example  to 
keep  power  when  we  have  it — What  noise  is  that  ?  " 

"  Only  the  usual  after-dinner  quarrel,"  said  the  divine. 
"  I  hear  the  Captain's  voice,  else  most  silent,  commanding 
them  to  keep  peace,  in  the  devil's  name  and  that  of  the 
ladies." 

"  Upon  my  word,  dearest  Lady  Binks,  this  is  too  bad 
of  that  lord  and  master  of  yours,  and  of  Mowbray,  who 
micht  have  more  sense,  and  of  the  rest  of  that  claret- 
drinking  set,  to  be  quarrelling  and  alarming  our  nerves 
every  evening  with  presenting  their  pistols  perpetually  at 
each  other,  like  sportsmen  confined  to  the  house  upon  a 
rainy  12th  of  August.  I  am  tired  of  the  Peace-maker — 
he  but  skins  the  business  over  in  one  case  to  have  it 
break  out  elsewhere. — What  think  you,  love,  if  we  were 


ST.  ronan's  well.  115 

to  give  out  in  orders,  that  the  next  quarrel  which  may 
arise,  shall  be  bond  fide  fought  to  an  end  ? — We  will  all 
go  out  and  see  it,  and  wear  the  colours  on  each  side ;  and 
if  there  should  a  funeral  come  of  it,  we  will  attend  it  in  a 
body. — Weeds  are  so  becoming ! — Are  they  not,  my  dear 
Lady  Binks  ?  Look  at  Widow  Blower  in  her  deep  black 
— don't  you  envy  her,  my  love  ?  " 

Lady  Binks  seemed  about  to  make  a  sharp  and  hasty 
answer,  but  checked  herself,  perhaps  under  the  recollec- 
tion that  she  could  not  prudently  come  to  an  open  breach 
with  Lady  Penelope. — At  the  same  moment  the  door 
opened,  and  a  lady  dressed  in  a  riding-habit,  and  wearing 
a  black  veil  over  her  hat,  appeared  at  the  entry  of  the 
apartment. 

"  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace ! "  exclaimed  Lady 
Penelope,  with  her  very  best  tragic  start — "  My  dearest 
Clara,  why  so  late  ?  and  why  thus  ?  Will  you  step  to 
my  dressing-room — Jones  will  get  you  one  of  my  gowns 
— we  are  just  of  a  size,  you  know — do  pray — let  me  be 
vain  of  something  of  my  own  for  once,  by  seeing  you 
wear  it." 

This  was  spoken  in  the  tone  of  the  fondest  female 
friendship,  and  at  the  same  time  the  fair  hostess  bestowed 
on  Miss  Mowbray  one  of  those  tender  caresses,  which 
ladies — God  bless  them  ! — sometimes  bestow  on  each 
other  with  unnecessary  prodigality,  to  the  great  discon- 
tent and  envy  of  the  male  spectators. 

"  You  are  fluttered,  my  clearest  Clara — you  are  fever- 
ish— I  am  sure  you  are,"  continued  the  sweetly  anxious 
Lady  Penelope  ;  "  let  me  persuade  you  to  lie  down." 

"Indeed  you  are  mistaken,  Lady  Penelope,"  said 
Misa  Mowbray,  who  seemed  to  receive  much  as  a  matter 
of  course  her  ladyship's  profusion  of  affectionate  polite- 


1,16  WAVKKLEY    NOVELS. 

aess  : — "  I  am  heated,  and  my  pony  trotted  hard,  that  is 
the  whole  mystery. — Let  me  have  a  cup  of  tea,  Mrs. 
Jones,  and  the  matter  is  ended." 

"  Fresh  tea,  Jones,  directly,"  said  Lady  Penelope,  and 
led  her  passive  friend  to  her  own  corner,  as  she  was 
pleased  to  call  the  recess,  in  which  she  held  her  little 
court — ladies  and  gentlemen  curtsying  and  bowing  as 
she  passed ;  to  which  civilities  the  new  guest  made  no 
more  return  than  the  most  ordinary  politeness  rendered 
unavoidable. 

Lady  Binks  did  not  rise  to  receive  her,  but  sat  upright 
in  her  chair,  and  bent  her  head  very  stiffly  ;  a  courtesy 
which  Miss  Mowbray  returned  in  the  same  stately  man- 
ner, without  farther  greeting  on  either  side. 

"  Now,  wha  can  that  be,  Doctor  ? "  said  the  Widow 
Blower — "  mind  ye  have  promised  to  tell  me  all  about 
the  grand  folk — wha  can  that  be  that  Leddy  Penelope 
hauds  such  a  racket  wi'  ? — and  what  for  does  she  come 
wi'  a  habit  and  a  beaver-hat,  when  we  are  a'  (a  glance  at 
her  own  gown)  in  our  silks  and  satins  ?  " 

"  To  tell  you  who  she  is,  my  dear  Mrs.  Blower,  is  very 
easy,"  said  the  "officious  Doctor.  "  She  is  Miss  Clara 
Mowbray,  sister  to  the  Lord  of  the  Manor — the  gentle- 
man who  wears  the  green  coat,  with  an  arrow  on  the 
cape.  To  tell  why  she  wears  that  habit,  or  does  anything 
else,  would  be  rather  beyond  doctor's  skill.  Truth  is  I 
have  always  thought  she  was  a  little — a  very  little — 
touched — call  it  nerves — hypochondria — or  what  you 
will." 

"  Lord  help  us,  puir  thing ! "  said  the  compassionate 
widow. — "  And  troth  it  looks  like  it.  But  it's  a  shame  to 
let  her  go  loose,  Doctor — she  might  hurt  hersell,  or  some- 
body.    See,  she  has  ta'en  the  knife  ! — 0,  it's  only  to  cut 


ST.  ronan's  well.  117 

a  shave  of  the  diet-loaf.  She  winna  let  the  powder- 
monkey  of  a  boy  help  her.  There's  judgment  in  that 
though,  Doctor,  for  she  can  cut  thick  or  thin  as  she  likes. 
— Dear  me  !  she  has  not  taken  mair  than  a  crumb,  that 
ane  would  pit  between  the  wires  of  a  canary-bird's  cage, 
after  all. — I  wish  she  would  lift  up  that  lang  veil,  or  put 
aff  that  riding  skirt,  Doctor.  She  should  really  be 
showed  the  regulations,  Doctor  Kickelshin." 

"  She  cares  about  no  rules  we  can  make,  Mrs.  Blower," 
said  the  Doctor ;  "  and  her  brother's  will  and  pleasure, 
and  Lady  Penelope's  whim  of  indulging  her,  carry  her 
through  in  every  thing.  They  should  take  advice  on  her 
case." 

"  Ay,  truly  it's  time  to  take  advice,  when  young  crea- 
tures like  her  caper  in  amang  dressed  leddies,  just  as  if 
they  were  come  from  scampering  on  Leith  sands. — 
Such  a  wark  as  my  leddy  makes  wi'  her,  Doctor !  Ye 
would  think  they  were  baith  fools  of  a  feather." 

"  They  might  have  flown  on  one  wing,  for  what  I 
know,"  said  Dr.  Quackleben ;  "  but  there  was  early  and 
sound  advice  taken  in  Lady  Penelope's  case.  My  friend, 
the  late  Earl  of  Featherhead,  was  a  man  of  judgment — 
did  little  in  his  family  but  by  rule  of  medicine — so  that, 
what  with  the  waters,  and  what  with  my  own  care,  Lady 
Penelope  is  only  freakish — fanciful — that's  all — and  her 
quality  bears  it  out — the  peccant  principle  might  have 
broken  out  under  other  treatment." 

"  Ay — she  has  been  weel-friended,"  said  the  widow ; 
"but  this  bairn  Mowbray,  puir  thing!  how  came  she  to 
be  sae  left  to  hersell  ?  " 

"  Her  mother  was  dead — her  father  thought  of  nothing 
but  his  sports,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Her  brother  was  edu- 
cated in  England,  and  cared  for  nobody  but  himself,  if  he 


118  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

bad  been  here.  What  education  she  got  was  at  her  own 
hand — what  reading  she  read  was  in  a  library  full  of  old 
romances — what  friends  or  company  she  had  was  what 
chance  sent  her — then  no  family-physician,  not  even  a 
good  surgeon  within  ten  miles !  And  so  you  cannot  won- 
der if  the  poor  thing  became  unsettled  !  " 

"  Puir  thing  ! — no  doctor  ! — nor  even  a  surgeon  ! — 
But,  Doctor,"  said  the  widow,  "  maybe  the  puir  thing 
had  the  enjoyment  of  her  health  ye  ken,  and  then" 

"Ah  ?  ha,  ha  ! — why  then,  madam,  she  needed  a  phy- 
sician far  more  than  if  she  had  been  delicate.  A  skilful 
physician,  Mrs.  Blower,  knows  how  to  bring  down  that 
robust  health,  which  is  a  very  alarming  state  of  the  frame 
when  it  is  considered  secundum  artem.  Most  sudden 
deaths  happen  when  people  are  in  a  robust  state  of 
health.  Ah  !  that  state  of  perfect  health  is  what  the 
doctor  dreads  niost  on  behalf  of  his  patient." 

"  Ay,  ay,  Doctor  ! — I  am  quite  sensible,  nae  doubt," 
said  the  widow,  "of  the  great  advantage  of  having  a 
skeelfu'  person  about  ane." 

Here  the  Doctor's  voice,  in  his  earnestness  to  convince 
Mrs.  Blower  of  the  danger  of  supposing  herself  capable 
of  living  and  breathing  without  a  medical  man's  permis- 
sion, sunk  into  a  soft  pleading  tone,  of  which  our  reporter 
could  not  catch  the  sound.  He  was,  as  great  orators  will 
sometimes  be,  "  inaudible  in  the  gallery." 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Penelope  overwhelmed  Clara  Mow- 
bray with  her  caresses.  In  what  degree  her  ladyship,  at 
her  heart,  loved  this  young  person,  might  be  difficult  to 
ascertain, — probably  in  the  degree  in  which  a  child  loves 
a  favourite  toy.  But  Clara  was  a  toy  not  always  to  be 
come  by — as  whimsical  in  her  way  as  her  ladyship  in  her 
own,  only  that  poor  Clara's  singularities  were  real,  and 


ST.  ronan's  well.  119 

her  ladyship's  chiefly  affected.  Without  adopting  the 
harshness  of  the  Doctor's  conclusions  concerning  the 
former,  she  was  certainly  unequal  in  her  spirits ;  and  her 
occasional  fits  of  levity  were  chequered  by  very  long  in- 
tervals of  sadness.  Her  levity  also  appeared,  in  the 
world's  eye,  greater  than  it  really  was ;  for  she  had  never 
been  under  the  restraint  of  society  which  was  really 
good,  and  entertained  an  undue  contempt  for  that  which 
she  sometimes  mingled  with ;  having  unhappily  none  to 
teach  her  the  important  truth,  that  some  forms  and  re- 
straints are  to  be  observed,  less  in  respect  to  others  than 
to  ourselves.  Her  dress,  her  manners,  and  her  ideas, 
were  therefore  very  much  her  own ;  and  though  they 
became  her  wonderfully,  yet  like  Ophelia's  garlands,  and 
wild  snatches  of  melody,  they  were  calculated  to  excite 
compassion  and  melancholy,  even  while  they  amused  the 
observer. 

"  And  why  came  you  not  to  dinner  ? — We  expected 
you — your  throne  was  prepared  ?  " 

"  I  had  scarce  come  to  tea,"  said  Miss  Mowbray,  "  of 
my  own  free  will.  But  my  brother  says  your  ladyship 
pi-oposes  to  come  to  Shaws-Castle,  and  he  insisted  it  was 
quite  right  and  necessary,  to  confirm  you  in  so  flattering 
a  purpose,  that  I  should  come  and  say,  Pray  do,  Lady 
Penelope  ;  and  so  now  here  am  I  to  say,  Pray,  do 
come." 

"  Is  an  invitation  so  flattering  limited  to  me  alone,  my 
dear  Clara? — Lady  Links  will  be  jealous." 

"  Bring  Lady  Binks,  if  she  has  the  condescension  to 
honour  us  " — [a  bow  was  very  stiffly  exchanged  between 
the  ladies] — "  bring  Mr.  Springblossom — Winterblossom 
— and  all  the  lions  and  lionesses — we  have  room  for  the 
whole  collection.     My  brother,  I  suppose,  will  bring  his 


1*20  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

own  particular  regiment  of  bears,  which,  with  the  usual 
assortment  of  monkeys  seen  in  all  caravans,  will  complete 
the  menagerie.  How  you  are  to  be  entertained  at  Shaws- 
Castle,  is,  I  thank  Heaven,  not  my  business,  but  John's." 

"  We  shall  want  no  formal  entertainment,  my  love," 
said  Lady  Penelope;  "a  dejeuner  a  la  fourchette — we 
know,  Clara,  you  would  die  of  doing  the  honours  of  a 
formal  dinner." 

"  Not  a  bit ;  I  should  live  long  enough  to  make  my 
will,  and  bequeath  all  large  parties  to  Old  Nick,  who  in- 
vented them." 

"  Miss  Mowbray,"  said  Lady  Binks,  who  had  been 
thwarted  by  this  free-spoken  young  lady,  both  in  her 
former  character  of  a  coquette  and  romp,  and  in  that  of 
a  prude  which  she  at  present  wore — "  Miss  Mowbray 
declares  for 

Champagne  and  a  chicken  at  last.'  " 

"  The  chicken,  without  the  champagne,  if  you  please," 
said  Miss  Mowbray ;  "  I  have  known  ladies  pay  dear 
to  have  champagne  on  the  board. — By  the  by,  Lady  Pe- 
nelope, you  have  not  your  collection  in  the  same  order 
and  discipline  as  Pidcock  and  Polito.  There  was  much 
growling  and  snarling  in  the  lower  den  when  I  passed 
it." 

"  It  was  feeding  time,  my  love,"  said  Lady  Penelope : 
"  and  the  lower  animals  of  every  class  become  pugna- 
cious at  that  hour — you  see  all  our  safer  and  well-condi- 
tioned animals  are  loose,  and  in  good  order." 

"  Oh,  yes — in  the  keeper's  presence,  you  know — Well, 
I  must  venture  to  cross  the  hall  again  araonj;  all  that 
growling  and  grumbling — I  would  I  had  the  fairy  prince's 
quarters   of  mutton   to  toss  among  them  if  they  should 


ST.    ROXAX'S    WELL.  121 

break  out — He,  I  mean,  who  fetched  water  from  the 
Fountain  of  Lions.  However,  on  second  thoughts,  I 
will  take  the  back  way,  and  avoid  them. — "What  says 
honest  Bottom? — 

'  For  if  they  should  as  lions  come  in  strife 
Into  such  place,  'twere  pity  of  their  life.'  " 

"  Shall  I  go  with  you,  my  dear  ?  "  said  Lady  Pe- 
nelope. 

"  No — I  have  too  great  a  soul  for  that — I  think  some 
of  them  are  lions  only  as  far  as  the  hide  is  concerned." 

"  But  why  would  you  go  so  soon,  Clara  ?  " 

"  Because  my  errand  is  finished — have  I  not  invited 
you  and  yours  ?  and  would  not  Lord  Chesterfield  himself 
allow  I  have  done  the  polite  thing  ?  " 

"  But  you  have  spoke  to  none  of  the  company — how 
can  you  be  so  odd,  my  love  ?  "  said  her  ladyship. 

"  Why,  I  spoke  to  them  all  when  I  spoke  to  you  and 
Lady  Binks — but  I  am  a  good  girl,  and  will  do  as  I  am 
bid." 

So  saying,  she  looked  round  the  company,  and  addressed 
each  of  them  with  an  affectation  of  interest  and  politeness, 
which  thinly  concealed  scorn  and  contempt. 

"  Mr.  Winterblossom,  I  hope  the  gout  is  better — Mr. 
Robert  Rymar — (I  have  escaped  calling  him  Thomas  for 
once) — I  hope  the  public  give  encouragement  to  the 
muses — Mr.  Keelavine,  I  trust  your  pencil  is  busy — Mr. 
Chatterly,  I  have  no  doubt  your  flock  improves — Dr. 
Quackleben,  I  am  sure  your  patients  recover. — These  are 
all  the  especials  of  the  worthy  company  I  know — for  the 
rest,  health  to  the  sick,  and  pleasure  to  the  healthy." 

"  You  are  not  going  in  reality,  my  love  ?  "  said  Lady 
Penelope  ;  "  these  hasty  rides  agitate  your  nerves — they 


122  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

do,  indeed — you  should  be  cautious — Shall  I  speak  to 
Quackleben?" 

"  To  neither  quack  nor  quackle,  on  my  account,  my 
dear  lady.  It  is  not  as  you  wouid  seem  to  say,  by  your 
winking  at  Lady  Binks — it  is  not,  indeed — I  shall  be  no 
Lady  Clementina,  to  be  the  wonder  and  pity  of  the  spring 
of  St.  Ronan's — No  Ophelia  neither — though  I  will  say 
with  her,  Good-night,  ladies — Good-night,  sweet  ladies  ! 
— and  now — not  my  coach,  my  coach — but  my  horse,  my 
horse !  " 

So  saying,  she  tripped  out  of  the  room  by  a  side  pas- 
sage, leaving  the  ladies  looking  at  each  other  significantly, 
and  shaking  their  heads  with  an  expression  of  much  im- 
port. 

"  Something  has  ruffled  the  poor  unhappy  girl,"  said 
Lady  Penelope  ;  "  I  never  saw  her  so  very  odd  before." 

"  Were  I  to  speak  my  mind,"  said  Lady  Binks,  "  I 
think,  as  Mrs.  Highmore  says  in  the  farce,  her  madness 
is  but  a  poor  excuse  for  her  impertinence." 

"  Oh  fie  !  my  sweet  Lady  Binks,"  said  Lady  Penelope, 
"  spare  my  poor  favourite  !  You,  surely,  of  all  others, 
should  forgive  the  excesses  of  an  amiable  eccentricity  of 
temper. — Forgive  me,  my  love,  but  I  must  defend  an 
absent  friend — My  Lady  Binks,  I  am  very  sure,  is  too 
generous  and  candid  to 

'  Hate  for  arts  which  caused  herself  to  rise.'  " 

"  Not  being  conscious  of  any  high  elevation,  my  lady," 
answered  Lady  Binks,  "  I  do  not  know  any  arts  I  have 
been  under  the  necessity  of  practising  to  attain  it.  I 
suppose  a  Scotch  lady  of  an  ancient  family  may  become 
the  wife  of  an  English  baronet,  and  no  very  extraordinary 
great  cause  to  wonder  at  it." 


ST.    RONAN'S    "WELL.  123 

"  No,  surely — but  people  in  this  world  will,  you  know, 
wonder  at  nothing,"  answered  Lady  Penelope. 

"  If  you  envy  me  my  poor  quiz,  Sir  Bingo,  I'll  get 
you  a  better,  Lady  Pen." 

"  I  don't  doubt  your  talents,  my  dear ;  but  when  I 
want  one,  I  will  get  one  for  myself. — But  here  comes  the 
whole  party  of  quizzes. — Joliffe,  offer  the  gentlemen  tea 
— then  get  the  floor  ready  for  the  dancers,  and  set  the 
card-tables  in  the  next  room  " 


124  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


AFTER    DINNER. 


They  draw  the  cork,  they  broach  the  barrel, 
And  first  they  kiss,  and  then  they  quarrel. 

Prior. 

If  the  reader  has  attended  much  to  the  manners  of 
the  canine  race,  he  may  have  remarked  the  very  differ- 
ent manner  in  which  the  individuals  of  the  different 
sexes  carry  on  their  quarrels  among  each  other.  The 
females  are  testy,  petulant,  and  very  apt  to  indulge  their 
impatient  dislike  of  each  other's  presence,  or  the  spirit 
of  rivalry  which  it  produces,  in  a  sudden  bark  and  snap, 
which  last  is  generally  made  as  much  at  advantage  as 
possible.  But  these  ebullitions  of  peevishness  lead  to  no 
very  serious  or  prosecuted  conflict ;  the  affair  begins  and 
ends  in  a  moment.  Not  so  the  ire  of  the  male  dogs, 
which,  once  produced,  and  excited  by  growls  of  mutual 
offence  and  defiance,  leads  generally  to  a  fierce  and  ob- 
stinate contest ;  in  which,  if  the  parties  be  dogs  of  game, 
and  well  matched,  they  grapple,  throttle,  tear,  roll  each 
other  in  the  kennel,  and  can  only  be  separated  by  choking 
them  with  their  own  collars,  till  they  lose  wind  and  hold 
at  the  same  time,  or  by  surprising  them  out  of  their 
wrath  by  sousing  them  with  cold  water. 

The  simile,  though  a  currish  one,  will  hold  good  in  its 


ST.  roxax's  well.  125 

application  to  the  human  race.  While  the  ladies  in  the 
tea-room  of  the  Fox  Hotel  were  engaged  in  the  light 
snappish  velitation,  or  skirmish,  which  we  have  described, 
the  gentlemen  who  remained  in  the  parlour  were  more 
than  once  like  to  have  quarrelled  more  seriously. 

"We  have  mentioned  the  weighty  reasons  which  induced 
Mr.  Mowbray  to  look  upon  the  stranger,  whom  a  general 
invitation  had  brought  into  their  society,  with  unfavour- 
able prepossessions ;  and  these  were  far  from  being 
abated  by  the  demeanour  of  Tyrrel,  which,  though  per- 
fectly well-bred,  indicated  a  sense  of  equality,  which  the 
young  Laird  of  St.  Ronan's  considered  as  extremely  pre- 
sumptuous. 

As  for  Sir  Bingo,  he  already  began  to  nourish  the  gen- 
uine hatred  always  entertained  by  a  mean  spirit  against 
an  antagonist  before  whom  it  is  conscious  of  having  made 
a  dishonourable  retreat.  He  forgot  not  the  manner,  look, 
and  tone,  with  which  Tyrrel  had  checked  his  unauthor- 
ized intrusion  ;  and  though  he  had  sunk  beneath  it  at  the 
moment,  the  recollection  rankled  in  his  heart  as  an 
affront  to  be  avenged.  As  he  drank  his  wine,  courage, 
the  want  of  which  was,  in  his  more  sober  moments,  a 
check  upon  his  bad  temper,  began  to  inflame  his  malig- 
nity, and  he  ventured  upon  several  occasions  to  show  his 
spleen,  by  contradicting  Tyrrel  more  flatly  than  good 
manners  permitted  upon  so  short  an  acquaintance,  and 
without  any  provocation.  Tyrrel  saw  his  ill  humour,  and 
despised  it,  as  that  of  an  overgrown  schoolboy,  whom  it 
was  not  worth  his  while  to  answer  according  to  his  folly. 

One  of  the  apparent  causes  of  the  Baronet's  rudeness 
was  indeed  childish  enough.  The  company  were  talking 
of  shooting,  the  most  animating  topic  of  conversation 
among  Scottish  country  gentlemen  of  the  younger  class, 


126  WAVERLEY  NOVELS. 

and  Tyrrel  had  mentioned  soraetliing  of  a  favourite  set- 
ter, an  uncommonly  handsome  dog,  from  which  he  had 
been  for  some  time  separated,  but  which  he  expected 
would  rejoin  him  in  the  course  ef  next  week. 

"A  setter!"  retorted  Sir  Bingo,  with  a  sneer;  "a 
pointer,  I  suppose  you  mean  !  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Tyrrel ;  "lam  perfectly  aware  of  the 
difference  betwixt  a  setter  and  a  pointer,  and  I  know  the 
old-fashioned  setter  is  become  unfashionable  among  mod- 
em  sportsmen.  But  I  love  my  dog  as  a  companion,  as 
well  as  for  his  merits  in  the  field ;  and  a  setter  is  more 
sagacious,  more  attached,  and  fitter  for  his  place  on  the 
hearth-rug,  than  a  pointer — not,"  he  added,  "  from  any 
deficiency  of  intellects  on  the  pointer's  part,  but  he  is 
generally  so  abused  while  in  the  management  of  brutal 
breakers  and  grooms,  that  he  loses  all  excepting  his  pro- 
fessional accomplishments,  of  finding  and  standing  steady 
to  game." 

"  And  who  the  d — 1  desires  he  should  have  more  ? " 
said  Sir  Bingo. 

"Many  people,  Sir  Bingo,"  replied  Tyrrel,  "have 
been  of  opinion,  that  both  dogs  and  men  may  follow 
sport  indifferently  well,  though  they  do  happen,  at  the 
same  time,  to  be  fit  for  mixing  in  friendly  intercourse  in 
society." 

"  That  is,  for  licking  trenchers,  and  scratching  copper, 
I  suppose,"  said  the  Baronet  sotto  voce  ;  and  added,  in  a 
louder  and  more  distinct  tone, — "  He  never  before  heard 
that  a  setter  was  fit  to  follow  any  man's  heels  but  a 
poacher's." 

"  You  know  it  now  then,  Sir  Bingo,"  answered  Tyrrel ; 
"  and  I  hope  you  will  not  fall  into  so  great  a  mistake 
again." 


ST.    RONAX'S    WELL.  127 

The  Peace-maker  here  seemed  to  think  his  interfer- 
ence necessary,  and,  surmounting  his  taciturnity,  made 
the  following  pithy  speech  : — "  By  Cot !  and  do  you  see, 
as  you  are  looking  for  my  opinion,  I  think  there  is  no 
dispute  in  the  matter — because,  by  Cot !  it  occurs  to  me, 
d'ye  see,  that  ye  are  both  right,  by  Cot !  It  may  do  fery 
well  for  my  excellent  friend  Sir  Bingo,  who  hath  stables, 
and  kennels,  and  what  not,  to  maintain  the  six  filthy 
prutes  that  are  yelping  and  yowling  all  the  tay,  and  all 
the  neight  too,  under  my  window,  by  Cot ! — And  if  they 
are  yelping  and  yowling  there,  may  I  never  die,  but  I 
wish  they  were  yelping  and  yowling  somewhere  else. 
But  then  there  is  many  a  man  who  may  be  as  cood  a 
gentleman  at  the  bottom  as  my  worthy  friend  Sir  Bingo, 
though  it  may  be  that  he  is  poor ;  and  if  he  is  poor — and 
as  if  it  might  be  my  own  case,  or  that  of  this  honest  gen- 
tleman, Mr.  Tirl,  is  that  a  reason  or  a  law,  that  he  is  not 
to  keep  a  prute  of  a  tog,  to  help  him  to  take  his  sports 
and  his  pleasures  ?  and  if  he  has  not  a  stable  or  a  kennel 
to  put  the  crature  into,  must  he  not  keep  it  in  his  pit  of 
ped-room,  or  upon  his  parlour  hearth,  seeing  that  Luckie 
Dods  would  make  the  kitchen  too  hot  for  the  paist — and 
so,  if  Mr.  Tirl  finds  a  setter  more  fitter  for  his  purpose 
than  a  pointer,  by  Cot,  I  know  no  law  against  it,  else 
may  I  never  die  the  black  death." 

If  this  oration  appear  rather  long  for  the  occasion,  the 
reader  must  recollect  that  Captain  MacTurk  had  in  all 
probability  the  trouble  of  translating  it  from  the  peri- 
phrastic language  of  Ossian,  in  which  it  was  originally 
conceived  in  his  own  mind. 

The  Man  of  Law  replied  to  the  Man  of  Peace,  "  Ye 
are  mistaken  for  ance  in  your  life,  Captain,  for  there  is  a 
law  against  setters ;  and  I  will  undertake  to  prove  them 


128  WAYKULEY    NOVELS. 

to  be  the  '  lying  dogs '  which  are  mentioned  in  the  auld 
Scots  statute,  and  which  all  and  sundry  are  discharged  to 
keep,  under  a  penalty  of" 

Here  the  Captain  broke  in,  with  a  very  solemn  mien 
and  dignified  manner — "  By  Cot !  Master  Meiklewham, 
and  I  shall  be  asking  what  you  mean  by  talking  to  me  of 
peing  mistaken,  and  apout  lying  togs,  sir — pecause  I 
would  have  you  to  know,  and  to  pelieve,  and  to  very  well 
consider,  that  I  never  was  mistaken  in  my  life,  sir,  unless 
it  was  when  I  took  you  for  a  gentleman." 

"  No  offence,  Captain,"  said  Mr.  Meiklewham  ;  "  dinna 
break  the  wand  of  peace,  man,  you  that  should  be  the 
first  to  keep  it.  He  is  as  cankered,"  continued  the  Man 
of  Law,  apart  to  his  patron,  "  as  an  auld  Hieland  terrier, 
that  snaps  at  whatever  comes  near  it — but  I  tell  you  ae 
thing,  St.  Ronan's,  and  that  is  on  saul  and  conscience, 
that  I  believe  this  is  the  very  lad  Tirl,  that  I  raised  a 
summons  against  before  the  justices — him  and  another 
hempie — in  your  father's  time,  for  shooting  on  the 
Springwell-head  muirs." 

"  The  devil  you  did,  Mick  !  "  replied  the  Lord  of  the 
Manor,  also  aside ; — "  Well,  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  giv- 
ing me  some  reason  for  the  ill  thoughts  I  had  of  him — I 
knew  he  was  some  trumpery  scamp — I'll  blow  him, 
by" 

"  Whisht — stop — hush — haud  your  tongue,  St.  Ronan's 
— keep  a  calm  sough — ye  see,  I  intented  the  process,  by 
your  worthy  father's  desire,  before  the  Quarter  Sessions 
— but  I  ken  na — The  auld  sheriff-clerk  stood  the  lad's 
friend — and  some  of  the  justices  thought  it  was  but  a 
mistake  of  the  marches,  and  sae  we  couldna  get  a  judg- 
ment— and  your  father  was  very  ill  of  the  gout,  and  I 
was  feared  to  vex  him,  and  so  I  was  fain    to  let   the 


ST.  roxan's  "well.  129 

process  sleep,  for  fear  they  had  been  assoilzied. — Sae  ye 
had  better  gang  cautiously  to  wark,  St.  Ronan;s,  for 
though  they  were  summoned,  they  were  not  convict." 

"  Could  you  not  take  up  the  action  again  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Mowbray. 

"  Whew  !  it's  been  prescribed  sax  or  seeven  year  syne. 
It  is  a  great  shame,  St.  Ronan's,  that  the  game  laws, 
whilk  are  the  very  best  protection  that  is  left  to  country 
gentlemen  against  the  encroachment  of  their  inferiors,  rin 
sae  short  a  course  of  prescription — a  poacher  may  just 
jink  ye  back  and  forward  like  a  flea  in  a  blanket,  (wi' 
pardon) — hap  ye  out  of  ae  county  and  into  anither 
at  their  pleasure,  like  pyots — and  unless  ye  get  your 
thum-nail  on  them  in  the  very  nick  o'  time,  ye  may 
dine  on  a  dish  of  prescription,  and  sup  upon  an  absolvi- 
tor." 

"  It  is  a  shame  indeed,"  said  Mowbray,  turning  from 
his  confidant  and  agent,  and  addressing  himself  to  the 
company  in  general,  yet  not  without  a  peculiar  look 
directed  to  Tyrrel. 

"  What  is  a  shame,  sir  ?  "  said  Tyrrel,  conceiving  that 
the  observation  was  particularly  addressed  to  him. 

"  That  we  should  have  so  many  poachers  upon  our 
muirs,  sir,"  answered  St.  Ronan's.  "I  sometimes  regret 
having  countenanced  the  Well  here,  when  I  think  how 
many  guns  it  has  brought  on  my  property  every  season." 

"  Hout  fie  !  hout  awa,  St.  Ronan's  !"  said  his  Man  of 
Law  ;  "  no  countenance  the  Waal  ?  What  would  the 
country-side  be  without  it,  I  would  be  glad  to  ken  ?  It's 
the  greatest  improvement  that  has  been  made  on  this 
country  since  the  year  forty-five.  Na,  na,  it's  no  the 
Waal  that's  to  blame  for  the  poaching  and  delinquencies 
on  the  game. — We  maun  to  the  Aultoun  for  the  howf  of 

A'OL.    XXXIII.  9 


130  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

that  kind  of  cattle.  Our  rules  at  the  Waal  are  clear  and 
express  against  trespassers  on  the  game." 

"  I  can't  think,"  said  the  Squire,  "  what  made  my 
father  sell  the  property  of  the  old  change-house  yonder, 
to  the  hag  that  keeps  it  open  out  of  spite,  I  think,  and  to 
harbour  poachers  and  vagabonds  ! — I  cannot  conceive 
what  made  him  do  so  foolish  a  thing !  " 

"  Probably  because  your  father  wanted  money,  sir," 
said  Tyrrel,  dryly ;  "  and  my  worthy  landlady,  Mrs. 
Dods,  had  got  some. — You  know,  I  presume,  sir,  that  I 
lodge  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,"  replied  Mowbray,  in  a  tone  betwixt  scorn 
and  civility,  "  you  cannot  suppose  the  present  company  is 
alluded  to ;  I  only  presumed  to  mention  as  a  fact,  that  we 
have  been  annoyed  with  unqualified  people  shooting  on 
our  grounds,  without  either  liberty  or  license. — And  I 
hope  to  have  her  sign  taken  down  for  it — that  is  all. — 
There  was  the  same  plague  in  my  father's  days,  I  think, 
Mick  ?  " 

But  Mr.  Meiklewham,  who  did  not  like  Tyrrel's  looks 
so  well  as  to  induce  him  to  become  approver  on  the 
occasion,  replied  with  an  inarticulate  grunt,  addressed  to 
the  company,  and  a  private  admonition  to  his  patron's 
own  ear,  "  to  let  sleeping  dogs  lie." 

"  I  can  scarce  forbear  the  fellow,"  said  St.  Ronan's ; 
"  and  yet  I  cannot  well  tell  where  my  dislike  to  him  lies 
— but  it  would  be  d — d  folly  to  turn  out  with  him  for 
nothing ;  and  so,  honest  Mick,  I  will  be  as  quiet  as  I 
can." 

"  And  that  you  may  be  so,"  said  Meiklewham,  "  I 
think  you  had  best  take  no  more  wine." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  said  the  Squire ;  "  for  each  glass  I 
drink  in   his  company  gives  me  the  heartburn — yet  the 


ST.  ronan's  well.  131 

man  is  not  different  from  other  raffs  either — but  there  is 
a  something  about  him  intolerable  to  me." 

So  saying,  he  pushed  back  his  chair  from  the  table, 
and — regis  ad  exemplar — after  the  pattern  of  the  Laird, 
all  the  company  arose. 

Sir  Bingo  got  up  with  reluctance,  which  he  testified  by 
two  or  three  deep  growls,  as  he  followed  the  rest  of  the 
company  into  the  outer  apartment,  which  served  as  an 
entrance-hall,  and  divided  the  dining-parlour  from  the 
tea-room,  as  it  was  called.  Here,  while  the  party  were 
assuming  their  hats,  for  the  purpose  of  joining  the  ladies' 
society,  (which  old-fashioned  folk  used  only  to  take  up  for 
that  of  going  into  the  open  air,)  Tyrrel  asked  a  smart 
footman,  who  stood  near,  to  hand  him  the  hat  which  lay 
on  the  table  beyond. 

"  Call  your  own  servant,  sir,"  answered  the  fellow, 
with  the  true  insolence  of  a  pampered  menial. 

"  Your  master,"  answered  Tyrrel,  "  ought  to  have 
taught  you  good  manners,  my  friend,  before  bringing  you 
here." 

"  Sir  Bingo  Binks  is  my  master,"  said  the  fellow,  in 
the  same  insolent  tone  as  before. 

"  Xow  for  it,  Bingie,"  said  Mowbray,  who  was  aware 
that  the  Baronet's  pot-courage  had  arrived  at  fighting 
pitch. 

"  Yes  ! "  said  Sir  Bingo  aloud,  and  more  articulately 
than  usual. — "  The  fellow  is  my  servant — what  has  any 
one  to  say  to  it  ?  " 

"  I  at  least  have  my  mouth  stopped,"  answered  Tyrrel, 
with  perfect  composure.  "  I  should  have  been  surprised 
to  have  found  Sir  Bingo's  servant  better  bred  than  him- 
self." 

"  What  d'ye  mean  by  that,  sir  ?  "  said  Sir  Bingo,  com- 


132  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

ing  up  in  an  offensive  attitude,  for  he  was  no  mean  pupil 
of  the  Fives-Court — "  What  d'ye  mean  by  that  ?  D — n 
you,  sir !  I'll  serve  you  out  before  you  can  say  dump- 
ling." 

"  And  I,  Sir  Bingo,  unless  you  presently  lay  aside  that 
look  and  manner,  will  knock  you  down  before  you  can 
cry  help." 

The  visitor  held  in  his  hand  a  slip  of  oak,  with  which 
he  gave  a  flourish,  that,  however  slight,  intimated  some 
acquaintance  with  the  noble  art  of  single-stick.  From 
this  demonstration  Sir  Bingo  thought  it  prudent  some- 
what to  recoil,  though  backed  by  a  party  of  friends,  who, 
in  their  zeal  for  his  honour,  would  rather  have  seen  his 
bones  broken  in  conflict  bold,  than  his  honour  injured  by 
a  discreditable  retreat ;  and  Tyrrel  seemed  to  have  some 
inclination  to  indulge  them.  But,  at  the  very  instant 
when  his  hand  was  raised  with  a  motion  of  no  doubtful 
import,  a  whispering  voice,  close  to  his  ear,  pronounced 
the  emphatic  words — "  Are  you  a  man  ?  " 

Not  the  thrilling  tone  with  which  our  inimitable  Sid- 
dons  used  to  electrify  the  scene,  when  she  uttered  the 
same  whisper,  ever  had  a  more  powerful  effect  upon  an 
auditor,  than  had  these  unexpected  sounds  on  him,  to 
whom  they  were  now  addressed.  Tyrrel  forgot  every 
thing — his  quarrel — the  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
placed — the  company.  The  crowd  was  to  him  at  once 
annihilated,  and  life  seemed  to  have  no  other  object  than 
to  follow  the  person  who  had  spoken.  But  suddenly  as 
he  turned,  the  disappearance  of  the  monitor  was  at  least 
equally  so,  for,  amid  the  group  of  commonplace  counte- 
nances by  which  he  was  surrounded,  there  was  none 
which  assorted  to  the  tone  and  words  which  possessed 
such  a  power  over  him.     "  Make  way,"   he  said,  to  those 


st.  rowan's  well.  133 

who  surrounded  him  ;  and  it  was  in  the  tone  of  one  who 
was  prepared,  if  necessaiy,  to  make  way  for  himself. 

Mr.  Mowbray  of  St.  Ronan's  stepped  forward.  "  Come, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  this  will  not  do — you  have  come  here,  a 
stranger  among  us,  to  assume  airs  and  dignities,  which, 
by  G — d,  would  become  a  duke,  or  a  prince  !  We  must 
know  who  or  what  you  are,  before  we  permit  you  to  carry 
your  high  tone  any  farther." 

This  address  seemed  at  once  to  arrest  Tyrrel's  anger, 
and  his  impatience  to  leave  the  company.  He  turned  to 
Mowbray,  collected  his  thoughts  for  an  instant,  and  then 
answered  him  thus  : — "  Mr.  Mowbray,  I  seek  no  quarrel 
with  any  one  here — with  you,  in  particular,  I  am  most 
unwilling  to  have  any  disagreement  I  came  here  by  in- 
vitation, not  certainly  expecting  much  pleasure,  but,  at 
the  same  time,  supposing  myself  secure  from  incivility. 
In  the  last  point,  I  find  myself  mistaken,  and  therefore 
wish  the  company  good-night.  I  must  also  make  my 
adieu  to  the  ladies."  So  saying,  he  walked  several  steps, 
yet,  as  it  seemed,  rather  irresolutely,  towards  the  door  of 
the  card-room — and  then,  to  the  increased  surprise  of  the 
company,  stopped  suddenly,  and  muttering  something 
about  the  "  unfitness  of  the  time,"  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  bowing  haughtily,  as  there  was  way  made  for  him, 
walked  in  the  opposite  direction  towards  the  door  wdiich 
led  to  the  outer  hall. 

"  D — n  me,  Sir  Bingo,  will  you  let  him  oft'? "  said 
Mowbray,  who  seemed  to  delight  in  pushing  his  friend 
into  new  scrapes — "  To  him,  man — to  him — he  shows  the 
white  feather." 

Sir  Bingo,  thus  encouraged,  planted  himself  with  a 
look  of  defiance  exactly  between  Tyrrel  and  the  door  ; 
upon  which  the  retreating  guest,  bestowing  on  him  most 


134  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

emphatically  the  epithet  Fool,  seized  him  by  the  collar, 
and  flung  him  out  of  his  way  with  some  violence. 

"  I  am  to-be  found  at  the  Old  Town  of  St.  Ronan's  by 
whomsoever  has  any  concern  with  me." — Without  wait- 
ing the  issue  of  this  aggression  farther  than  to  utter  these 
words,  Tyrrel  left  the  hotel.  He  stopped  in  the  court- 
yard, however,  with  the  air  of  one  uncertain  whither  he 
intended  to  go,  and  who  was  desirous  to  ask  some  ques- 
tion, which  seemed  to  die  upon  his  tongue.  At  length 
his  eye  fell  upon  a  groom,  who  stood  not  far  from  the 
door  of  the  inn,  holding  in  his  hand  a  handsome  pony, 
with  a  side-saddle. 

"Whose" said  Tyrrel — but  the  rest  of  the  ques- 
tion he  seemed  unable  to  utter. 

The  man,  however,  replied,  as  if  he  had  heard  the 
whole  interrogation. — "  Miss  Mowbray's,  sir,  of  St.  Ro- 
nan's— she  leaves  directly — and  so  I  am  walking  the  pony 
— a  clever  thing,  sir,  for  a  lady." 

"  She  returns  to  Shaws-Castle  by  the  Buck-stane 
road  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,  sir,"  said  the  groom.  "  It  is  the  nigh- 
est,  and  Miss  Clara  cares  little  for  rough  roads.  Zounds ! 
she  can  spank  it  over  wet  and  dry." 

Tyrrel  turned  away  from  the  man,  and  hastily  left  the 
hotel — not,  however,  by  the  road  which  led  to  the  Aul- 
toun,  but  by  a  footpath  among  the  natural  copsewood, 
which,  following  the  course  of  the  brook,  intersected  the 
usual  horse-road  to  Shaws-Castle,  the  seat  of  Mr.  Mow- 
bray, at  a  romantic  spot  called  the  Buck-stane. 

In  a  small  peninsula,  formed  by  a  winding  of  the  brook, 
was  situated,  on  a  rising  hillock,  a  large  rough-hewn  pillar 
of  stone,  said  by  tradition  to  commemorate  the  fall  of  a 
stag  of  unusual  speed,  size,  and  strength,  whose   flight, 


ST.  ronan's  well.  135 

after  having  lasted  through  a  whole  summer's  day,  had 
there  terminated  in  death,  to  the  honour  and  glory  of 
some  ancient  Baron  of  St.  Ronan's,  and  of  his  stanch 
hounds.  During  the  periodical  cuttings  of  the  copse, 
which  the  necessities  of  the  family  of  St.  Ronan's  brought 
round  more  frequently  than  Ponty  would  have  recom- 
mended, some  oaks  had  been  spared  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  this  massive  obelisk,  old  enough  perhaps  to  have  heard 
the  whoop  and  halloo  which  followed  the  fall  of  the  stag, 
and  to  have  witnessed  the  raising  of  the  rude  monument, 
by  which  that  great  event  was  commemorated.  These 
trees,  with  their  broad  spreading  boughs,  made  a  twilight 
even  of  noon-day ;  and  now,  that  the  sun  was  approach- 
ing its  setting  point,  their  shade  already  anticipated  night. 
This  was  especially  the  case  where  three  or  four  of  them 
stretched  their  arms  over  a  deep  gully,  through  which 
winded  the  horse-path  to  Shaws-Castle,  at  a  point  about 
a  pistol-shot  distant  from  the  Buck-stane.  As  the  prin- 
cipal access  to  Mr.  Mowbray's  mansion  was  by  a  carriage- 
way, which  passed  in  a  different  direction,  the  present 
path  was  left  almost  in  a  state  of  nature,  full  of  large 
stones,  and  broken  by  gullies,  delightful,  from  the  varied 
character  of  its  banks,  to  the  picturesque  traveller,  and 
most  inconvenient,  nay,  dangerous,  to  him  who  had  a 
stumbling  horse. 

The  footpath  to  the  Buck-stane,  which  here  joined  the 
bridle-road,  had  been  constructed,  at  the  expense  of  a 
subscription,  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Winterblossom, 
who  had  taste  enough  to  see  the  beauties  of  this  secluded 
spot,  which  was  exactly  such  as  in  earlier  times  might 
have  harboured  the  ambush  of  some  marauding  chief. 
This  recollection  had  not  escaped  Tyrrel,  to  whom  the 
whole  scenery   was   familiar,  who  now  hastened    to   the 


136  WAVERLEV    NOVELS. 

spot,  as  one  which  peculiarly  suited  his  present  purpose. 
He  sat  clown  by  one  of  the  larger  projecting  trees,  and, 
screened  by  its  enormous  branches  from  observation,  was 
enabled  to  watch  the  road  from  the  Hotel  for  a  great  part 
of  its  extent,  while  he  was  himself  invisible  to  any  who 
might  travel  upon  it. 

Meanwhile  his  sudden  departure  excited  a  considerable 
sensation  among  the  party  whom  he  had  just  left,  and 
who  were  induced  to  form  conclusions  not  very  favour- 
able to  his  character.  Sir  Bingo,  in  particular,  blustered 
loudly  and  more  loudly,  in  proportion  to  the  increasing 
distance  betwixt  himself  and  his  antagonist,  declarino-  his 
resolution  to  be  revenged  on  the  scoundrel  for  his  inso- 
lence— to  drive  him  from  the  neighbourhood, — and  I 
know  not  what  other  menaces  of  formidable  import. 
The  devil,  in  the  old  stories  of  diablerie,  was  always  sure 
to  start  up  at  the  elbow  of  any  one  who  nursed  diabolical 
purposes,  and  only  wanted  a  little  backing  from  the  foul 
fiend  to  carry  his  imaginations  into  action.  The  noble 
Captain  MacTurk  had  so  far  this  property  of  his  infernal 
majesty,  that  the  least  hint  of  an  approaching  quarrel 
drew  him  always  to  the  vicinity  of  the  party  concerned. 
He  was  now  at  Sir  Bingo's  side,  and  was  taking  his  own 
view  of  the  matter,  in  his  character  of  peace-maker. 

"  By  Cot !  and  it's  very  exceedingly  true,  my  good 
friend,  Sir  Binco — and  as  you  say,  it  concerns  your  hon- 
our, and  the  honour  of  the  place,  and  credit  and  character 
of  the  whole  company,  by  Cot !  that  this  matter  be  prop- 
erly looked  after;  for,  as  I  think,  he  laid  hands  on  your 
body,  my  excellent  goot  friend." 

"  Hands,  Captain  MacTurk  !  "  exclaimed  Sir  Bingo  in 
some  confusion  ;  "  no,  blast  him — not  so  bad  as  that  nei- 
ther— if  he  had,  I  should  have  handed  him  over  the  win- 


ST.  roxan's  well.  137 

dow — but  by ,  the  fellow  bad  the  impudence  to  offer 

to  collar  me — I  had  just  stepped  back  to  square  at  him, 
when,  curse  me,  the  blackguard  ran  away." 

"  Right,  vara  right,  Sir  Bingo,"  said  the  Man  of  Law, 
"  a  vara  perfect  blackguard,  a  poaching  sorning  sort  of 
fallow,  that  I  will  have  scoured  out  of  the  country  before 
he  be  three  days  aulder.  Fash  you  your  beard  nae  far- 
ther about  the  matter,  Sir  Bingo." 

"  By  Cot !  but  I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Meiklewharn,"  said 
the  Man  of  Peace,  with  great  solemnity  of  visage,  "  that 
you  are  scalding  your  lips  in  other  folk's  kale,  and  that  it 
is  necessary  for  the  credit,  and  honour,  and  respect  of  this 
company,  at  the  Well  of  St.  Ronan's,  that  Sir  Bingo  goes 
by  more  competent  advice  than  yours  upon  the  present 
occasion,  Mr.  Meiklewharn  ;  for  though  your  counsel  may 
do  very  well  in  a  small  debt-court,  here,  do  you  see,  Mr. 
Meiklewharn,  is  a  question  of  honour,  which  is  not  a  thing 
in  your  line,  as  I  take  it." 

"  No,  before  George  !  is  it  not,"  answered  Meikle- 
wharn ;  "  e'en  take  it  all  to  yoursell,  Captain,  and  meikle 
ye  are  likely  to  make  on't." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Captain,  "  Sir  Binco,  I  will  beg  the 
favour  of  your  company  to  the  smoking  room,  where  we 
may  have  a  cigar  and  a  glass  of  gin-twist ;  and  we  will 
consider  how  the  honour  of  the  company  must  be  sup- 
ported and  upholden  upon  the  present  conjuncture." 

The  Baronet  complied  with  this  invitation,  as  much, 
j nil iaps,  in  consequence  of  the  medium  through  which 
the  Captain  intended  to  convey  his  warlike  counsels,  as 
for  the  pleasure  with  which  he  anticipated  the  result  of 
these  counsels  themselves.  He  followed  the  military  step 
of  his  leader,  whose  stride  was  more  stiff,  and  his  form 
more  perpendicular,  when  exalted  by  the  consciousness 


138  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

of  an  approaching  quarrel,  to  the  smoking-room,  where, 
sighing  as  he  lighted  his  cigar,  Sir  Bingo  prepared  to 
listen  to  the  words  of  wisdom  and  valour  as  they  should 
flow  in  mingled  stream  from  the  lips  of  Captain  Mac- 
Turk. 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  the  company  joined  the  ladies. 
"  Here  has  been  Clara,"  said  the  Lady  Penelope  to  Mr. 
Mowbray ;  "  here  has  been  Miss  Mowbray  among  us, 
like  the  ray  of  a  sun  which  does  but  dazzle  and  die." 

"  Ah,  poor  Clara,"  said  Mowbray ;  "  I  thought  I  saw 
her  thread  her  way  through  the  crowd  a  little  while  since, 
but  1  was  not  sure." 

"  Well,"  said  Lady  Penelope,  "  she  has  asked  us  all  up 
to  Shaws-Castle  on  Thursday,  to  a  dejeuner  a  la  four- 
chette — I  trust  you  confirm  your  sister's  invitation,  Mir. 
Mowbray  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Lady  Penelope,"  replied  Mowbray  ;  "  and 
I  am  truly  glad  Clara  has  had  the  grace  to  think  of  it — 
How  we  shall  acquit  ourselves  is  a  different  question, 
for  neither  she  nor  I  are  much  accustomed  to  play  host 
or  hostess." 

'•  Oh  !  it  will  be  delightful,  I  am  sure,"  said  Lady  Pe- 
nelope ;  "  Clara  has  a  grace  in  everything  she  does ;  and 
you,  Mr.  Mowbray,  can  be  a  perfectly  well-bred  gentle- 
man— when  you  please." 

"  That  qualification  is  severe — Well — good  manners  be 
my  speed — I  will  certainly  please  to  do  my  best,  when  I 
see  your  ladyship  at  Shaws-Castle,  which  has  received  no 
company  this  many  a  day. — Clara  and  I  have  lived  a 
wild  life  of  it,  each  in  their  own  way." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  Lady  Binks,  "  if  I  might 
presume  to  speak — I  think  you  do  suffer  your  sister  to 
ride  about  a  little  too  much    without    an  attendant.     I 


ST.  ronan's  well.  139 

know  Miss  Mowbray  rides  as  woman  never  rode  before, 
but  still  an  accident  may  happen." 

"  An  accident  ?  "  replied  Mowbray — "  Ah,  Lady  Binks  ! 
accidents  happen  as  frequently  when  ladies  have  attend- 
ants as  when  they  are  without  them." 

Lady  Binks,  who,  in  her  maiden  state,  had  cantered  a 
good  deal  about  these  woods  under  Sir  Bingo's  escort, 
coloured,  looked  spiteful,  and  was  silent. 

"  Besides,"  said  John  Mowbray,  more  lightly,  "  where 
is  the  risk,  after  all  ?  There  are  no  wolves  in  our  woods 
to  eat  up  our  pretty  Red-Riding  Hoods ;  and  no  lions 
either — except  those  of  Lady  Penelope's  train." 

"  Who  draw  the  car  of  Cybele,"  said  Mr.  Chatterly. 

Lady  Penelope  luckily  did  not  understand  the  allusion, 
which  was  indeed  better  intended  than  imagined. 

"  Apropos  !  "  she  said  ;  "  what  have  you  done  with  the 
great  lion  of  the  day  ?  I  see  Mr.  Tyrrel  nowhere — Is  he 
finishing  an  additional  bottle  with  Sir  Bingo." 

"  Mr.  Tyrrel,  madam,"  said  Mowbray,  "  has  acted  suc- 
cessively the  lion  rampant,  and  the  lion  passant ;  he  has 
been  quarrelsome,  and  he  has  run  away — fled  from  the 
ire  of  your  doughty  knight,  Lady  Binks." 

"  I  am  sure  I  hope  not,"  said  Lady  Binks  ;  "  my  Chev- 
alier's unsuccessful  campaigns  have  been  unable  to  over- 
come his  taste  for  quarrels — a  victory  would  make  a 
fighting  man  of  him  for  life." 

"  That  inconvenience  might  bring  its  own  consolations," 
said  AVinterblossom  apart  to  Mowbray  ;  "  quarrellers  do 
not  usually  live  long." 

"  No,  no,"  I'eplied  Mowbray,  "the  lady's  despair  which 
broke  out  just  now,  even  in  her  own  despite,  is  quite  nat- 
ural— absolutely  legitimate.  Sir  Bingo  will  give  her  no 
chance  that  way." 


140  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

Mowbray  then  made  his  bow  to  Lady  Penelope,  and 
in  answer  to  her  request  that  he  would  join  the  ball  or 
the  card-table,  observed,  that  he  had  no  time  to  lose ; 
that  the  heads  of  the  old  domestics  at  Shaws-Castle 
would  be  by  this  time  absolutely  turned,  by  the  appre- 
hensions of  what  Thursday  was  to  bring  forth  ;  and  that 
as  Clara  would  certainly  give  no  directions  for  the  proper 
arrangements,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  take  that 
trouble  himself. 

"  If  you  ride  smartly,"  said  Lady  Penelope,  "  you  may 
save  even  a  temporary  alarm,  by  overtaking  Clara,  dear 
creature,  ere  she  gets  home — She  sometimes  suffers  her 
pony  to  go  at  will  along  the  lane  as  slow  as  Betty  Foy's." 

"  Ah,  but  then,"  said  little  Miss  Digges,  "  Miss  Mow- 
bray sometimes  gallops  as  if  the  lark  was  a  snail  to  her 
pony — and  it  quite  frights  one  to  see  her." 

The  Doctor  touched  Mrs.  Blower,  who  had  approached 
so  as  to  be  on  the  verge  of  the  genteel  circle,  though  she 
did  not  venture  within  it, — they  exchanged  sagacious 
looks,  and  a  most  pitiful  shake  of  the  head.  Mowbray's 
eye  happened  at  that  moment  to  glance  on  them  ;  and 
doubtless,  notwithstanding  their  hasting  to  compose  their 
countenances  to  a  different  expression,  he  comprehended 
what  was  passing  through  their  minds;  and  perhaps  it 
awoke  a  corresponding  note  in  his  own.  He  took  his  hat, 
and  with  a  cast  of  thought  upon  his  countenance  which  it 
seldom  wore,  left  the  apartment.  A  moment  afterwards 
his  horse's  feet  were  heard  spurning  the  pavement,  as  he 
started  off  at  a  sharp  pace. 

"  There  is  something  singular  about  these  Mowbrays, 
to-night,"  said  Lady  Penelope. — "  Clara,  poor  dear  angel, 
is  always  particular ;  but  I  should  have  thought  Mow- 
bray had  too   much  worldly  wisdom  to  -be  fanciful. — 


ST.    ROXANS    "WELL. 


Ill 


What  are  you  consulting  your  souvenir  for  with  such  at- 
tention, my  dear  Lady  Binks  ?  " 

"  Only  for  the  age  of  the  moon,"  said  her  ladyship, 
putting  the  little  tortoise-shell-bound  calendar  into  her 
reticule ;  and  having  done  so,  she  proceeded  to  assist 
Lady  Penelope  in  the  arrangements  for  the  evening 


142  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    MEETING. 

We  meet  as  shadows  in  the  land  of  dreams, 
Which  speak  not  but  in  signs. 

Anonymous. 

Behind  one  of  the  old  oaks  which  we  have  described 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  shrouding  himself  from  obser- 
vation like  a  hunter  watching  for  his  game,  or  an  Indian 
for  his  enemy,  but  with  different,  very  different  purpose, 
Tyrrel  lay  on  his  breast  near  the  Buck-stane,  his  eye  on 
the  horse-road  which  winded  down  the  valley,  and  his 
ear  alertly  awake  to  every  sound  which  mingled  with  the 
passing  breeze,  or  with  the  ripple  of  the  brook. 

"  To  have  met  her  in  yonder  congregated  assembly  of 
brutes  and  fools" — such  was  a  part  of  his  internal  reflec- 
tions,— "  had  been  little  less  than  an  act  of  madness — 
madness  almost  equal  in  its  degree  to  that  cowardice 
which  has  hitherto  prevented  my  approaching  her,  when 
our  eventful  meeting  might  have  taken  place  unobserved. 
— But  now — now — my  resolution  is  as  fixed  as  the  place 
is  itself  favourable.  I  will  not  wait  till  some  chance  again 
shall  throw  us  together,  with  an  hundred  malignant  eyes 
to  watch,  and  wonder,  and  stare,  and  try  in  vain  to  account 
for  the  expression  of  feelings  which  I  might  find  it  im- 
possible to  suppress. — Hark — hark  ! — I  hear  the  tread  of 


ST.  roxan's  well.  143 

a  horse. — No — it  was  the  changeful  sound  of  the  water 
rushing  over  the  pebbles.  Surely  she  cannot  have  taken 
the  other  road  to  Shaws-Castle ! — No — the  sounds  become 
distinct — her  figure  is  visible  on  the  path,  -coming  swiftly 
forward — Have  I  the  courage  to  show  myself? — I  have — 
the  hour  is  come,  and  wThat  must  be  shall  be." 

Yet  this  resolution  was  scarcely  formed  ere  it  began 
to  fluctuate,  when  he  reflected  upon  the  fittest  manner  of 
carrying  it  into  execution.  To  show  himself  at  a  dis- 
tance, might  give  the  lady  an  opportunity  of  turning  back 
and  avoiding  the  interview  which  he  had  determined 
upon — to  hide  himself  till  the  moment  when  her  horse, 
in  rapid  motion,  should  pass  his  lurking-place,  might  be 
attended  with  danger  to  the  rider — and  while  he  hesitated 
which  course  to  pursue,  there  was  some  chance  of  his 
missing  the  opportunity  of  presenting  himself  to  Miss 
Mowbray  at  all.  He  was  himself  sensible  of  this,  formed 
a  hasty  and  desperate  resolution  not  to  suffer  the  present 
moment  to  escape,  and,  just  as  the  ascent  induced  the 
pony  to  slacken  its  pace,  Tyrrel  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  defile,  about  six  yards  distant  from  the  young 
lady. 

She  pulled  up  the  rein-,  and  stopped  as  if  arrested  by 
a  thunderbolt.—"  Clara  !  "— "  Tyrrel ! "  These  were  the 
only  words  which  were  exchanged  between  them,  until 
Tyrrel,  moving  his  feet  as  slowly  as  if  they  had 
been  of  lead,  began  gradually  to  diminish  the  distance 
which  lay  betwixt  them.  It  was  then  that,  observing  his 
closer  approach,  Miss  Mowbray  called  out  with  great 
eagerness, — "  No  nearer — no  nearer ! — So  long  have  I 
endured  your  presence,  but  if  you  approach  me  more 
closely,  I  shall  be  mad  indeed  !  " 

"  What  do  you  fear  ?  "  said  Tyrrel,  in  a  hollow  voice 


144  AVAVKKLEY    NOVELS. 

■ — "  What  can  you  fear  ? "    and   lie  continued  to  draw 
nearer,  until  they  were  within  a  pace  of  each  other. 

Clara,  meanwhile,  dropping  her  bridle,  clasped  her 
hands  together,  and  held  them  up  towards  Heaven,  mut- 
tering, in  a  voice  scarcely  audible,  "  Great  God  ! — if  this 
apparition  be  formed  by  my  heated  fancy,  let  it  pass 
away ;  if  it  be  real,  enable  me  to  bear  its  presence ! — 
Tell  me,  I  conjure  you,  are  you  Francis  Tyrrel  in  blood 
and  body,  or  is  this  but  one  of  those  wandering  visions 
that  have  crossed  my  path  and  glared  on  me,  but  without 
daring  to  abide  my  steadfast  glance  ?  " 

"  I  am  Francis  Tyrrel,"  answered  he,  "  in  blood  and 
body,  as  much  as  she  to  whom  I  speak  is  Clara  Mow- 
bray." 

"  Then  God  have  mercy  on  us  both  !  "  said  Clara,  in  a 
tone  of  deep  feeling. 

"  Amen  !  "  said  Tyrrel. — "  But  what  avails  this  excess 
of  agitation  ? — You  saw  me  but  now,  Miss  Mowbray — 
your  voice  still  rings  in  my  ears — You  saw  me  but  now 
• — you  spoke  to  me — and  that  when  I  was  among  stran- 
gers— Why  not  preserve  your  composure  when  we  are 
where  no  human  eye  can  see — no  human  ear  can  hear  ?  " 

"  Is  it  so,"  said  Clara ;  "  and  was  it  indeed  yourself 
whom  I  saw  even  now  ? — I  thought  so,  and  something  I 
said  at  the  time — but  my  brain  has  been  but  ill  settled 
since  we  last  met — But  I  am  well  now — quite  well — I 
have  invited  all  the  people  yonder  to  come  to  Shaws- 
Castle — my  brother  desired  me  to  do  it — I  hope  I  shall 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Tyrrel  there — though  I 
think  there  is  some  old  grudge  between  my  brother  and 
you." 

"  Alas !  Clara,  you  mistake.  Your  brother  I  have 
scarcely  seen,"  replied  Tyrrel,  much  distressed,  and  ap- 


st.  eokan's  well.  145 

parentlj  uncertain  in  what  tone  to  address  her,  which 
might  soothe,  and  not  irritate  her  mental  malady,  of 
which  he  could  now  entertain  no  douht. 

"  True — true,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"  my  brother  was  then  at  college.  It  was  my  father,  my 
poor  father,  whom  you  had  some  quarrel  with. — But  you 
will  come  to  Shaws-Castle  on  Thursday,  at  two  o'clock  ? 
— John  will  be  glad  to  see  you — he  can  be  kind  when  he 
pleases — and  then  we  will  talk  of  old  times — I  must  set 
on,  to  have  things  ready — Good  evening." 

She  would  have  passed  him,  but  he  took  gently  hold 
of  the  rein  of  her  bridle. — "  I  will  walk  with  you,  Clara,* 
he  said  ;  "  the  road  is  rough  and  dangerous — you  ought 
not  to  ride  fast. — I  will  walk  along  with  you,  and  we  will 
talk  of  former  times  now,  more  conveniently  than  in  com- 
pany." 

"  True — true — very  true,  Mr.  Tyrrel — it  shall  be  as 
you  say.  My  brother  obliges  me  sometimes  to  go  into 
company  at  that  hateful  place  down  yonder ;  and  I  do  so 
because  he  likes  it,  and  because  the  folks  let  me  have  my 
own  way.  and  come  and  go  as  I  list.  Do  you  know, 
Tyrrel,  that  very  often  when  I  am  there,  and  John  has 
his  eye  on  me,  I  can  cany  it  on  as  gaily  as  if  you  and  I 
had  never  met  ?  " 

"  I  would  to  God  we  never  had,"  said  Tyrrel,  in  a 
trembling  voice,  "  since  this  is  to  be  the  end  of  all ! " 

"  And  wherefore  should  not  sorrow  be  the  end  of  sin 
and  of  folly  ?  And  when  did  happiness  come  of  disobe- 
dience ? — And  when  did  sound  sleep  visit  a  bloody  pil- 
low ?  That  is  what  I  say  to  myself,  Tyrrel,  and  that  is 
what  you  must  learn  to  say  too,  and  then  you  will  bear 
your  burden  as  cheerfully  as  I  endure  mine.  If  we  have 
no  more   than  our  deserts,  why  should  we  complain  ? — 

VOL.  XXXIII.  10 


146  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

You  are  shedding  tears,  I  think — Is  not  that  childish  ? — ■ 
They  say  it  is  a  relief — if  so,  weep  on,  and  I  will  look 
another  way." 

Tyrrel  walked  on  by  the  pony's  side,  in  vain  endeav- 
ouring to  compose  himself  so  as  to  reply. 

"  Poor  Tyrrel,"  said  Clara,  after  she  had  remained 
silent  for  some  time — "  Poor  Frank  Tyrrel ! — Perhaps 
you  will  say  in  your  turn,  Poor  Clara — but  I  am  not  so 
poor  in  spirit  as  you — the  blast  may  bend,  but  it  shall 
never  break  me." 

There  was  another  long  pause ;  for  Tyrrel  was  unable 
fo  determine  with  himself  in  what  strain  he  could  address 
the  unfortunate  young  lady,  without  awakening  recollec- 
tions equally  painful  to  her  feelings,  and  dangerous,  when 
her  precarious  state  of  health  was  considered.  At  length 
she  herself  proceeded : — 

"  What  needs  all  this,  Tyrrel  ? — and  indeed,  why  came 
you  here  ? — Why  did  I  find  you  but  now  brawling  and 
quarrelling  among  the  loudest  of  the  brawlers  and  quar- 
relers of  yonder  idle  and  dissipated  debauchees  ? — You 
were  used  to  have  more  temper — more  sense.  Another 
person — ay,  another  that  you  and  I  once  knew — he  might 
have  committed  such  a  folly,  and  he  would  have  acted 
perhaps  in  character — But  you,  who  pretend  to  wisdom 
— for  shame,  for  shame  ! — And  indeed,  when  we  talk  of 
that,  what  wisdom  was  there  in  coming  hither  at  all  ? — or 
what  good  purpose  can  your  remaining  here  serve  ? — 
Surely  you  need  not  come,  either  to  renew  your  own  un- 
happiness  or  to  augment  mine  ?  " 

"  To  augment  yours — God  forbid  !  "  answered  Tyrrel. 
"  No — I  came  hither  only  because,  after  so  many  years 
of  wandering,  I  longed  to  revisit  the  spot  where  all  my 
hopes  lay  buried." 


ST.  ronan's  well.  147 

"  Ay — buried  is  the  word,"  she  replied,  "  crushed  down 
and  buried  when  they  budded  fairest.  I  often  think  of 
it,  Tyrrel ;  and  there  are  times  when,  Heaven  help  me  ! 
I  can  think  of  little  else. — Look  at  me — you  remember 
what  I  was — see  what  grief   and  solitude   have  made 


me 


She  flung  back  the  veil  which  surrounded  her  riding- 
hat,  and  which  had  hitherto  hid  her  face.  It  was  the 
same  countenance  which  he  had  formerly  known  in  all 
the  bloom  of  early  beauty  ;  but  though  the  beauty  re- 
mained, the  bloom  was  fled  for  ever.  Not  the  agitation 
of  exercise — not  that  which  arose  from  the  pain  and  con- 
fusion of  this  unexpected  interview,  had  called  to  poor 
Clara's  cheek  even  the  momentary  semblance  of  colour. 
Her  complexion  was  marble-white,  like  that  of  the  finest 
piece  of  statuary. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  said  Tyrrel ;  "  can  grief  have  made 
such  ravages  ?  " 

"  Grief,"  replied  Clara,  "  is  the  sickness  of  the  mind, 
and  its  sister  is  the  sickness  of  the  body — they  are  twin- 
sisters,  Tyrrel,  and  are  seldom  long  separate.  Some- 
times the  body's  disease  comes  first,  and  dims  our  eyes 
and  palsies  our  hands,  before  the  fire  of  our  mind  and  of 
our  intellect  is  quenched.  But  mark  me — soon  after 
comes  her  cruel  sister  with  her  urn,  and  sprinkles  cold 
dew  on  our  hopes  and  on  our  loves,  our  memory,  our 
recollections,  and  our  feelings,  and  shows  us  that  they 
cannot  survive  the  decay  of  our  bodily  powers." 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Tyrrel,  "  is  it  come  to  this  ?  " 

"  To  this,"  she  replied,  speaking  from  the  rapid  and 
irregular  train  of  her  own  ideas,  rather  than  comprehend- 
ing the  purport  of  his  sorrowful  exclamation, — "  to  this 
it  must  ever  come,  while  immortal  souls  are  wedded  to 


148  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

the  perishable  substance  of  which  our  bodies  are  com- 
posed. There  is  another  state,  Tyrrel,  in  which  it  will 
be  otherwise — God  grant  our  time  of  enjoying  it  were 
come ! " 

She  fell  into  a  melancholy  pause,  which  Tyrrel  was 
afraid  to  disturb.  The  quickness  with  which  she  spoke 
marked  but  too  plainly  the  irregular  succession  of 
thought,  and  he  was  obliged  to  restrain  the  agony  of  his 
own  feelings,  rendered  more  acute  by  a  thousand  painful 
recollections,  lest,  by  giving  way  to  his  expressions  of 
grief,  he  should  throw  her  into  a  still  more  disturbed 
state  of  mind. 

"  I  did  not  think,"  she  proceeded,  "  that  after  so  horri- 
ble a  separation,  and  so  many  years,  I  could  have  met 
you  thus  calmly  and  reasonably.  But  although  what  we 
were  formerly  to  each  other  can  never  be  forgotten,  it  is 
now  all  over  and  we  are  only  friends — Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Tyrrel  was  unable  to  reply. 

"  But  I  must  not  remain  here,"  she  said,  "  till  the  even- 
ing grows  darker  on  me. — We  shall  meet  again,  Tyrrel 
— meet  as  friends — nothing  more — You  will  come  up  to 
Shaws-Castle  and  see  me  ? — no  need  of  secrecy  now — 
my  poor  father  is  in  his  grave,  and  his  prejudices  sleep 
with  him — my  brother  John  is  kind,  though  he  is  stern 
and  severe  sometimes — Indeed,  Tyrrel,  I  believe  he 
loves  me,  though  he  has  taught  me  to  tremble  at  his 
frown  when  I  am  in  spirits  and  talk  too  much — But  he 
loves  me,  at  least  I  think  so,  for  I  am  sure  I  love  him  ; 
and  I  try  to  go  down  amongst  them  yonder,  and  to 
endure  their  folly,  and,  all  things  considered,  I  do  carry 
on  the  farce  of  life  wonderfully  well — We  are  but  actors, 
you  know,  and  the  world  but  a  stage." 

"  And   ours   has  been  a  sad    and    tragic  scene,"  said 


ST.  rosak's  well.  149 

Tyrrel,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  unable  any  longer 
to  refrain  from  speech. 

"  It  has  indeed — but,  Tyrrel,  when  was  it  otherwise 
with  engagements  formed  in  youth  and  in  folly  ?  You 
and  I  would,  you  know,  become  men  and  women  while 
we  were  yet  scarcely  more  than  children — We  have  run, 
while  yet  in  our  nonage,  through  the  passions  and  adven- 
tures of  youth,  and  therefore  we  are  now  old  before  our 
day,  and  the  winter  of  our  life  has  come  on  ere  its  sum- 
mer was  well  begun. — O  Tyrrel !  often  and  often  have  I 
thought  of  this  ! — Thought  of  it  often  ?  Alas  !  when 
will  the  time  come  that  I  shall  be  able  to  think  of  any 
thing  else  ! " 

The  poor  young  woman  sobbed  bitterly,  and  her  tears 
began  to  flow  with  a  freedom  which  they  had  not  proba- 
bly enjoyed  for  a  length  of  time.  Tyrrel  walked  on  by 
the  side  of  her  horse,  which  now  prosecuted  its  road 
homewards,  unable  to  devise  a  proper  mode  of  address- 
ing the  unfortunate  young  lady,  and  fearing  alike  to 
awaken  her  passions  and  his  own.  Whatever  he  might 
have  proposed  to  say,  was  disconcerted  by  the  plain  inch- 
cations  that  her  mind  was  clouded,  more  or  less  slightly, 
with  a  shade  of  insanity,  which  deranged,  though  it  had 
not  destroyed,  her  powers  of  judgment. 

At  length  he  asked  her,  with  as  much  calmness  as  he 
could  assume — if  she  was  contented — if  aught  could  be 
done  to  render  her  situation  more  easy — if  there  was 
aught  of  which  she  could  complain  which  he  might  be 
able  to  remedy  ?  She  answered  gently,  that  she  was 
calm  and  resigned,  when  her  brother  would  permit  her 
to  stay  at  home ;  but  that  when  she  was  brought  into 
society,  she  experienced  Buch  a  change  as  that  which  the 
water  of  the  brook  that  slumbers  in  a  crystalline  pool  of 


150  WAVERLET    NOVELS. 

the  rock  may  be  supposed  to  feel,  when,  gliding  from  its 
quiet  bed,  it  becomes  involved  in  the  hurry  of  the 
cataract. 

•'  But  my  brother  Mowbray,"  she  said,  "  thinks  he  is 
right, — and  perhaps  he  is  so.  There  are  things  on 
which  we  may  ponder  too  long  ; — and  were  he  mistaken, 
why  should  I  not  constrain  myself  in  order  to  please  him  ? 
— there  are  so  few  left  to  whom  I  can  now  give  either 
pleasure  or  pain. — I  am  a  gay  girl,  too,  in  conversation, 
Tyrrel — still  as  gay  for  a  moment,  as  when  you  used  to 
chide  me  for  my  folly.  So,  now  I  have  told  you  all, — I 
have  one  question  to  ask  on  my  part — one  question — if 
I  had  but  breath  to  ask  it — Is  he  still  alive  ?  " 

"  He  lives,"  answered  Tyrrel,  but  in  a  tone  so  low,  that 
nought  but  the  eager  attention  which  Miss  Mowbray 
paid  could  possibly  have  caught  such  feeble  sounds. 

"  Lives  !  "  she  exclaimed, — "  lives  ! — he  lives,  and  the 
blood  on  your  hand  is  not  then  indelibly  imprinted — O 
Tyrrel,  did  you  but  know  the  joy  which  this  assurance 
gives  to  me  ! " 

"Joy!"  replied  Tyrrel — "joy,  that  the  wretch  lives 
who  has  poisoned  our  happiness  for  ever! — lives,  per- 
haps, to  claim  you  for  his  own  ?  " 

"  Never,  never,  shall  he — dare  he  do  so,"  replied 
Clara,  wildly,  "  while  water  can  drown,  while  cords  can 
strangle,  steel  pierce — while  there  is  a  precipice  on  the 
hill,  a  pool  in  the  river — never — never  !  " 

"  Be  not  thus  agitated,  my  dearest  Clara,"  said  Tyrrel ; 
"  I  spoke  I  know  not  what — he  lives  indeed — but  far 
distant,  and,  I  trust,  never  again  to  revisit  Scotland." 

He  would  have  said  more,  but  that,  agitated  with  fear 
or  passion,  she  struck  her  horse  impatiently  with  her 
riding  whip.     The  spirited  animal,  thus  stimulated  and 


ST.  roxan's  well.  151 

at  the  same  time  restrained,  became  intractable,  and 
reared  so  much,  that  Tyrrel,  fearful  of  the  consequences, 
and  trusting  to  Clara's  skill  as  a  horsewoman,  thought 
he  best  consulted  her  safety  in  letting  go  the  rein.  The 
animal  instantly  sprung  forward  on  the  broken  and  hilly 
path  at  a  very  rapid  pace,  and  was  soon  lost  to  Tyrrel's 
anxious  eyes. 

As  he  stood  pondering  whether  he  ought  not  to  follow 
Miss  Mowbray  towards  S haws-Castle,  in  order  to  be 
satisfied  that  no  accident  had  befallen  her  on  the  road, 
he  heard  the  tread  of  a  horse's  feet,  advancing  hastily  in 
the  same  direction,  leading  from  the  Hotel.  Unwilling 
to  be  observed  at  this  moment,  he  stepped  aside  under 
the  shelter  of  the  underwood,  and  presently  afterwards 
saw  Mr.  Mowbray  of  St.  Ronan's,  followed  by  a  groom, 
ride  hastily  past  his  lurking-place,  and  pursue  the  same 
road  which  had  been  just  taken  by  his  sister.  The  pres- 
ence of  her  brother  seemed  to  assure  Miss  Mowbray's 
safety,  and  so  removed  Tyrrel's  chief  reason  for  follow- 
ing her.  Involved  in  deep  and  melancholy  reflection 
upon  what  had  passed,  nearly  satisfied  that  his  longer 
residence  in  Clara's  vicinity  could  only  add  to  her  unhap- 
piness  and  his  own,  yet  unable  to  tear  himself  from  that 
neighbourhood,  or  to  relinquish  feelings  which  had  be- 
come entwined  with  his  heart-strings,  he  returned  to  his 
lodgings  in  the  Aultoun,  in  a  state  of  mind  very  little  to 
be  envied. 

Tyrrel,  on  entering  his  apartment,  found  that  it  was 
not  lighted,  nor  were  the  Abigails  of  Mrs.  Dods  quite  so 
alert  as  a  waiter  at  Long's  might  have  been  to  supply 
him  with  candles.  Unapt  at  any  time  to  exact  much 
personal  attendance,  and  desirous  to  shun  at  that  moment 
the  necessity  of  speaking  to  any  person  whatever,  even 


152  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

on  the  most  trifling  subject,  he  walked  down  into  the 
kitchen  to  supply  himself  with  what  he  wanted.  He 
did  not  at  first  observe  that  Mrs.  Dods  herself  was  pres- 
ent in  this  the  very  centre  of  her  empire,  far  less  that  a 
lofty  air  of  indignation  was  seated  on  the  worthy  mat- 
ron's brow.  At  first  it  only  vented  itself  in  broken 
soliloquy  and  interjections ;  as,  for  example,  "  Vera 
bonny  wark  this  ! — vera  creditable  wark,  indeed  ! — a 
decent  house  to  be  disturbed  at  these  hours — Keep  a 
jiublic — as  weel  a  bedlam  ! " 

Finding  these  murmurs  attracted  no  attention,  the 
dame  placed  herself  betwixt  her  guest  and  the  door,  to 
which  he  was  now  retiring  with  his  lighted  candle,  and 
demanded  of  him  what  was  the  meaning  of  such  beha- 
viour. 

"  Of  what  behaviour,  madam  ?  "  said  her  guest,  re- 
peating her  question  in  a  tone  of  sternness  and  impa- 
tience so  unusual  with  him,  that  perhaps  she  was  sorry 
at  the  moment  that  she  had  provoked  him  out  of  his 
usual  patient  indifference  ;  nay,  she  might  even  feel 
intimidated  at  the  altercation  she  had  provoked,  for  the 
resentment  of  a  quiet  and  patient  person  has  always  in 
it  something  formidable  to  the  professed  and  habitual 
grumbler.  But  her  pride  was  too  great  to  think  of  a 
retreat,  after  having  sounded  the  signal  for  contest,  and 
so  she  continued,  though  in  a  tone  somewhat  lowered. 

"  Maister  Tirl,  I  wad  but  just  ask  you,  that  are  a  man 
of  sense,  whether  I  hae  ony  right  to  take  your  behaviour 
weel  ?  Here  have  you  been  these  ten  days  and  mail", 
eating  the  best,  and  drinking  the  best,  and  taking  up  the 
best  room  in  my  house  ;  and  now  to  think  of  your  gaun 
doun  and  taking  up  with  yon  idle  hare-brained  cattle  at 
the  Waal — I  maun  e'en  be  plain  wi'  ye  — I  like  nane  of 


ST.  ronan's  well.  153 

the  fair-fashioned  folk  that  can  say  My  Jo,  and  think  it 
no  ;  and  therefore  " 

"  Mrs.  Dods,"  said  Tyrrel,  interrupting  her,  "  I  have 
no  time  at  present  for  trifles.  I  am  obliged  to  you  for 
your  attention  while  I  have  been  in  your  house  ;  but  the 
disposal  of  my  time,  here  or  elsewhere,  must  be  accord- 
ing to  my  own  ideas  of  pleasure  or  business — If  you 
are  tired  of  me  as  a  guest,  send  in  your  bill  to-morrow." 

"  My  bill !  "  said  Mrs.  Dods  ;  "  my  bill  to-morrow  ! 
And  what  for  no  wait  till  Saturday,  when  it  may  be 
cleared  atween  us,  plack  and  bawbee,  as  it  was  on  Satur- 
day last  ?  " 

"  Well — we  will  talk  of  it  to-morrow,  Mrs.  Dods — 
Good  night."     And  he  withdrew  accordingly. 

Luckie  Dods  stood  ruminating  for  a  moment.  "  The 
deil's  in  him,"  she  said,  "  for  he  winna  bide  being  thrawn. 
And  I  think  the  deil's  in  me  too  for  thrawing  him,  sic  a 
canny  lad,  and  sae  gude  a  customer  ; — and  I  am  judging 
he  has  something  on  his  mind — want  of  siller  it  canna 
be — I  am  sure  if  I  thought  that,  I  wadna  care  about  my 
small  thing. — But  want  o'  siller  it  canna  be — he  pays 
ower  the  shillings  as  if  they  were  sclate  stanes,  and  that's 
no  the  way  that  folks  part  with  their  siller  when  there's 
but  little  on't — I  ken  weel  eneugh  how  a  customer  looks 
that's  near  the  grund  of  the  purse. — Weel !  I  hope  he 
winna  mind  ony  thing  of  this  nonsense  the  morn,  and  I'll 
try  to  guide  my  tongue  something  better. — Hegh,  sirs  ! 
but,  as  the  minister  says,  it's  an  unruly  member — troth, 
I  am  whiles  ashamed  o't  mysell." 


154  WAVERLET   NOVELS. 


CHAPTER   X. 

RESOURCES. 

Come,  let  me  have  thy  counsel,  for  I  need  it; 
Thou  art  of  those,  who  better  help  their  friends 
With  sage  advice,  than  usurers  with  gold, 
Or  brawlers  with  their  swords — I'll  trust  to  thee, 
For  I  ask  only  from  thee  words,  not  deeds. 

The  Devil  hath  met  his  Match. 

The  day  of  which  we  last  gave  the  events  chanced  to 
be  Monday,  and  two  days  therefore  intervened  betwixt  it 
and  that  for  which  the  entertainment  was  fixed,  that  was 
to  assemble  in  the  halls  of  the  Lord  of  the  Manor  the 
flower  of  the  company  now  at  St.  Ronan's  Well.  The 
interval  was  but  brief  for  the  preparations  necessary  on 
an  occasion  so  unusual ;  since  the  house,  though  delight- 
fully situated,  was  in  very  indifferent  repair,  and  for  years 
had  never  received  any  visitors,  except  when  some  blithe 
bachelor  or  fox-hunter  shared  the  hospitality  of  Mr, 
Mowbray ;  an  event  which  became  daily  more  and  more 
uncommon  ;  for,  as  lie  himself  almost  lived  at  the  Well, 
he  generally  contrived  to  receive  his  companions  where 
it  could  be  done  without  expense  to  himself.  Besides, 
the  health  of  his  sister  afforded  an  irresistible  apology  to 
any  of  those  old-fashioned  Scottish  gentlemen,  who  might 
be  too  apt  (in  the  rudeness  of  more  primitive  days)  to 
consider  a  friend's  house  as  their  own.     Mr.  Mowbray 


ST.  roxan's  well.  155 

was  now,  however,  to  the  great  delight  of  all  his  com- 
panions, nailed  down,  by  invitation  given  and  accepted, 
and  they  looked  forward  to  the  accomplishment  of  his 
promise,  with  the  eagerness  which  the  prospect  of  some 
entertaining  novelty  never  fails  to  produce  among  idlers. 

A  good  deal  of  tiouble  devolved  on  Mr.  Mowbray, 
and  his  trusty  agent,  Mr.  Meiklewham,  before  any  thing 
like  decent  preparation  could  be  made  for  the  ensuing 
entertainment;  and  they  were  left  to  their  unassisted 
endeavours  by  Clara,  who,  during  both  the  Tuesday  and 
Wednesday,  obstinately  kept  herself  secluded  ;  nor  could 
her  brother,  either  by  threats  or  flattery,  extort  from  her 
any  light  concerning  her  purpose  on  the  approaching  and 
important  Thursday.  To  do  John  Mowbray  justice,  he 
loved  his  sister  as  much  as  he  was  capable  of  loving  any 
thing  but  himself;  and  when,  in  several  arguments,  he 
had  the  mortification  to  find  that  she  was  not  to  be  pre- 
vailed on  to  afford  her  assistance,  he,  without  complaint, 
quietly  set  himself  to  do  the  best  he  could  by  his  own 
unassisted  judgment  or  opinion  with  regard  to  the  neces- 
sary preparations. 

This  was  not,  at  present,  so  easy  a  task  as  might  be 
supposed  ;  for  Mowbray  was  ambitious  of  that  character 
of  ton  and  elegance,  which  masculine  faculties  alone  are 
seldom  capable  of  attaining  on  such  momentous  occasions. 
The  more  solid  materials  of  a  collation  were  indeed  to  be 
obtained  for  money  from  the  next  market  town,  and  were 
purchased  accordingly ;  but  he  felt  it  was  likely  to  pre- 
sent the  vulgar  plenty  of  a  farmer's  feast,  instead  of  the 
elegant  entertainment,  which  might  be  announced  in  a 
corner  of  the  county  paper,  as  given  by  John  Mowbray, 
Esq.  of  St.  Ronan's,  to  the  gay  and  fashionable  company 
assembled  at  that  celebrated  spring.     There  was  likely 


15G  WAVEKLET    NOVELS. 

to  be  all  sorts  of  error  and  irregularity  in  dishing,  and  in 
sending  up  ;  for  Shaws-Castle  boasted  neither  an  accom- 
plished housekeeper,  nor  a  kitchenmaid  with  a  hundred 
pair  of  hands  to  execute  her  mandates.  All  the  domestic 
arrangements  were  on  the  minutest  system  of  economy 
consistent  with  ordinary  decency,  except  in  the  stables, 
which  were  excellent  and  well  kept.  But  can  a  groom 
of  the  stables  perform  the  labours  of  a  groom  of  the  cham- 
bers ?  or  can  the  game-keeper  arrange  in  tempting  order 
the  carcasses  of  the  birds  he  has  shot,  strew  them  with 
flowers,  and  garnish  them  with  piquant  sauces  ?  It 
would  be  as  reasonable  to  expect  a  gallant  soldier  to  act 
as  undertaker,  and  conduct  the  funeral  of  the  enemy  he 
has  slain. 

In  a  word,  Mowbray  talked,  and  consulted,  and  ad- 
vised, and  squabbled,  with  the  deaf  cook,  and  a  little  old 
man,  whom  he  called  the  butler,  until  he  at  length  per- 
ceived so  little  chance  of  brinsnno;  order  out  of  confusion, 
or  making  the  least  advantageous  impression  on  such 
obdurate  understandings  as  he  had  to  deal  with,  that  he 
fairly  committed  the  whole  matter  of  the  collation,  with 
two  or  three  hearty  curses,  to  the  charge  of  the  officials 
principally  concerned,  and  proceeded  to  take  the  state  of 
the  furniture  and  apartments  under  his  consideration. 

Here  he  found  himself  almost  equally  helpless  ;  for 
what  male  wit  is  adequate  to  the  thousand  little  coquetries 
practised  in  such  arrangements  ?  how  can  masculine  eyes 
judge  of  the  degree  of  demi-jour  which  is  to  be  admitted 
into  a  decorated  apartment,  or  discriminate  where  the 
broad  light  should  be  suffered  to  fall  on  a  tolerable  pic- 
ture, where  it  should  be  excluded,  lest  the  stiff  daub  of  a 
periwigged  grandsire  should  become  too  rigidly  prom- 
inent ?     And  if  men  are  unfit  for  weaving  such  a  fairy 


ST.  roxan's  well.  157 

web  of  light  and  darkness  as  may  best  suit  furniture, 
ornaments,  and  complexions,  how  shall  they  be  adequate 
to  the  yet  more  mysterious  office  of  arranging,  while 
they  disarrange,  the  various  moveables  in  the  apartment  ? 
so  that  while  all  has  the  air  of  negligence  and  chance, 
the  seats  are  placed  as  if  they  had  been  transported  by  a 
wish  to  the  spot  most  suitable  for  accommodation  ;  stiff- 
ness and  confusion  are  at  once  avoided,  the  company  are 
neither  limited  to  a  formal  circle  of  chairs,  nor  exposed 
to  break  their  noses  over  wandering  stools  ;  but  the  ar- 
rangements seem  to  correspond  to  what  ought  to  be  the 
tone  of  the  conversation,  easy,  without  being  confused, 
and  regulated,  without  being  constrained  or  stiffened. 

Then  how  can  a  clumsy  male  wit  attempt  the  arrange- 
ment of  all  the  chiffonerie,  by  which  old  snuff-boxes, 
heads  of  canes,  pomander  boxes,  lamer  beads,  and  all  the 
trash  usually  found  in  the  pigeon-holes  of  the  bureaus  of 
old-fashioned  ladies,  may  be  now  brought  into  play,  by 
throwing  them,  carelessly  grouped  with  other  unconsid- 
ered trifles,  such  as  are  to  be  seen  in  the  windows  of  a 
pawnbroker's  shop,  upon  a  marble  encognure,  or  a  mosaic 
work-table,  thereby  turning  to  advantage  the  trash  and 
trinketry,  which  all  the  old  maids  or  magpies,  who  have 
inhabited  the  mansion  for  a  century,  have  contrived  to 
accumulate.  With  what  admiration  of  the  ingenuity  of 
the  fair  artist  have  I  sometimes  pried  into  these  miscel- 
laneous groups  of  pseudo-bijouterie,  and  seen  the  great 
grand-ire's  thumb-ring  couchant  with  the  coral  and  bells 
of  the  first-born — and  the  boatswain's  whistle  of  some  old 
naval  uncle,  or  his  silver  tobacco-box,  redolent  of  Oroo- 
noko,  happily  grouped  with  the  mother's  ivory  comb-case, 
still  odorous  of  musk,  and  with  some  virgin  aunt's  tortoise- 
shell  spectacle-case,  and  the  eagle's  talon  of  ebony,  with 


158 


WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 


which,  in  the  days  of  long  and  stiff  stays,  our  grand- 
mothers were  wont  to  alleviate  any  little  irritation  in 
their  hack  or  shoulders  !  Then  there  was  the  silver 
strainer,  on  which,  in  more  economical  times  than  ours, 
the  lady  of  the  house  placed  the  tea-leaves,  after  the  very 
last  drop  had  been  exhausted,  that  they  might  afterwards 
be  hospitably  divided  among  the  company,  to  be  eaten 
with  sugar,  and  with  bread  and  butter.  Blessings  upon 
a  fashion  which  has  rescued  from  the  claws  of  abigails, 
and  the  melting-pot  of  the  silversmith,  those  neglected 
cimelia,  for  the  benefit  of  antiquaries  and  the  decoration 
of  side-tables !  But  who  shall  presume  to  place  them 
there,  unless  under  the  direction  of  female  taste  ?  and  of 
that  Mr.  Mowbray,  though  possessed  of  a  large  stock  of 
such  treasures,  was  for  the  present  entirely  deprived. 

This  digression  upon  his  difficulties  is  already  too  long, 
or  I  might  mention  the  Laird's  inexperience  in  the  art 
of  making  the  worse  appear  the  better  garnishment,  of 
hiding  a  darned  carpet  with  a  new  floor-cloth,  and  fling- 
ing an  Indian  shawl  over  a  faded  and  threadbare  sofa. 
But  I  have  said  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  to  ex- 
plain his  dilemma  to  any  unassisted  bachelor,  who, 
without  mother,  sister,  or  cousin,  without  skilful  house- 
keeper, or  experienced  clerk  of  the  kitchen,  or  valet  of 
parts  and  figure,  adventures  to  give  an  entertainment, 
and  aspires  to  make  it  elegant  and  comme  il  faut. 

The  sense  of  his  insufficiency  was  the  more  vexatious 
to  Mowbray,  as  he  was  aware  he  would  find  sharp  critics 
in  the  ladies,  and  particularly  in  his  constant  rival,  Lady 
Penelope  Penfeather.  He  was,  therefore,  incessant  in 
his  exertions ;  and  for  two  whole  days  ordered  and  dis- 
ordered, demanded,  commanded,  countermanded,  and 
reprimanded,    without   pause   or    cessation.      The    com- 


ST.    RONAX'S    WELL.  159 

panion,  for  he  could  not  be  termed  an  assistant  of  his 
labours,  was  his  trusty  agent,  who  trotted  from  room  to 
room  after  him,  affording  him  exactly  the  same  degree 
of  sympathy  which  a  dog  dolh  to  his  master  when  dis- 
tressed in  mind,  by  looking  in  his  face  from  time  to  time 
with  a  piteous  gaze,  as  if  to  assure  him  that  he  partakes 
of  his  trouble,  though  he  neither  comprehends  the  cause 
or  the  extent  of  it,  nor  has  in  the  slightest  degree  the 
power  to  remove  it. 

At  length,  when  Mowbray  had  got  some  matters 
arranged  to  his  mind,  and  abandoned  a  great  many  which 
he  would  willingly  have  put  in  better  order,  he  sat  down 
to  dinner  upon  the  Wednesday  preceding  the  appointed 
day,  with  his  worthy  aid-de-camp,  Mr.  Meiklewhain  ;  and, 
after  bestowing  a  few  muttered  curses  upon  the  whole 
concern,  and  the  fantastic  old  maid  who  had  brought 
them  into  the  scrape,  by  begging  an  invitation,  declared 
that  all  things  might  now  go  to  the  devil  their  own  way, 
for  so  sure  as  his  name  was  John  Mowbray,  he  would 
trouble  himself  no  more  about  them. 

Keeping  this  doughty  resolution,  he  sat  down  to  dinner 
with  his  counsel  learned  in  the  law ;  and  speedily  they 
despatched  the  dish  of  chops  which  was  set  before  them, 
and  the  better  part  of  the  bottle  of  old  port,  which  served 
for  its  menstruum. 

"  We  are  well  enough  now,"  said  Mowbray,  "  though 
we  have  had  none  of  their  d — d  kickshaws." 

"  A  wame-fou'  is  a  wame-fou',"  said  the  writer,  swab- 
bing his  greasy  chops,  "  whether  it  be  of  the  barleymeal 
or  the  bran." 

"  A  cart-horse  thinks  so,"  said  Mowbray  ;  "  but  we 
must  do  as  others  do,  and  gentlemen  and  ladies  are  of  a 
different  opinion." 


ICO  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"  The  waur  for  themselves  and  the  country  baith,  St. 
Ronan's — it's  the  jinketing  and  the  jirbling  wi'  tea  and 
wi'  trumpery  that  brings  our  nobles  to  ninepence,  and 
mony  a  het  ha'-house  to  a  hired  lodging  in  the  Abbey." 

The  young  gentleman  paused  for  a  few  minutes — filled 
a  bumper,  and  pushed  the  bottle  to  the  senior — then  said 
abruptly,  "  Do  you  believe  in  luck,  Mick  ?  " 

"  In  luck  ?  "  answered  the  attorney  ;  "  what  do  you 
mean  by  the  question?" 

"  Why,  because  I  believe  in  luck  myself — in  a  good  or 
bad  run  of  luck  at  cards." 

"  You  wad  have  mair  luck  the  day,  if  you  had  never 
touched  them,"  replied  his  confidant. 

"  That  is  not  the  question  now,"  said  Mowbray  ;  "  but 
what  I  wonder  at  is  the  wretched  chance  that  has  attend- 
ed us  miserable  Lairds  of  St.  Ronan's  for  more  than  a 
hundred  years,  that  we  have  always  been  getting  worse 
in  the  world,  and  never  better.  Never  has  there  been 
such  a  backsliding  generation,  as  the  parson  would  say — 
half  the  country  once  belonged  to  my  ancestors,  and  now 
the  last  furrows  of  it  seem  to  be  flying." 

"  Fleeing ! "  said  the  Avriter,  "  they  are  barking  and 
fleeing  baith, — This  Shaws-Castle  here,  I'se  warrant  it 
flee  up  the  chimney  after  the  rest,  were  it  not  weel 
fastened  down  with  your  grandfather's  tailzie." 

"  D — n  the  tailzie  !  "  said  Mowbray ;  "  if  they  had 
meant  to  keep  up  their  estate,  they  should  have  entailed 
it  when  it  was  worth  keeping :  to  tie  a  man  down  to  such 
an  insignificant  thing  as  St.  Ronan's,  is  like  tethering  a 
horse  on  six  roods  of  a  Highland  moor." 

"  Ye  have  broke  weel  in  on  the  mailing  by  your  feus 
down  at  the  Well,"  said  Meiklewham,  "  and  raxed  ower 
the  tether  maybe  a  wee  bit  farther  than  ye  had  ony  right 
to  do." 


ST.  ronan's  well.  161 

"  It  was  by  your  advice,  was  it  not  ?  "  said  the  Laird. 

"  I'se  ne'er  deny  it,  St.  Ronan's,"  answered  the  writer ; 
"  but  I  am  such  a  gude-natured  guse,  that  I  just  set  about 
pleasing  you  as  an  auld  wife  pleases  a  bairn." 

"  Ay,"  said  the  man  of  pleasure,  "  when  she  reaches 
it  a  knife  to  cut  its  own  fingers  with. — These  acres 
would  have  been  safe  enough,  if  it  had  not  been  for  your 
d — d  advice." 

"  And  yet  you  were  grumbling  e'en  now,"  said  the 
man  of  business,  "  that  you  have  not  the  power  to  gar 
the  whole  estate  flee  like  a  wild-duck  across  a  bog  ? 
Troth,  you  need  care  little  about  it  ;  for  if  you  have  in- 
curred an  irritancy — and  sae  thinks  Mr.  Wisebehind,  the 
advocate,  upon  an  A.  B.  memorial  that  I  laid  before  him 
— your  sister,  or  your  sister's  goodman,  if  she  should  take 
the  fancy  to  marry,  might  bring  a  declarator,  and  evict  St. 
Ronan's  frae  ye  in  the  course  of  twa  or  three  sessions." 

"  My  sister  will  never  marry,"  said  John  Mowbray. 

"  That's  easily  said,"  replied  the  writer  ;  "  but  as 
broken  a  ship's  come  to  land.  If  ony  body  kend  o'  the 
chance  she  has  o'  the  estate,  there's  mony  a  weel-doing 
man  would  think  little  of  the  bee  in  her  bonnet." 

"  Harkye,  Mr.  Meiklewham,"  said  the  Laird,  "  I  will 
be  obliged  to  you  if  you  will  speak  of  Miss  Mowbray  with 
the  respect  due  to  her  father's  daughter,  and  my  sister." 

"  Nae  offence,  St.  Ronan's,  nae  offence,"  answered  the 
man  of  law ;  "  but  ilka  man  maun  speak  sae  as  to  be 
understood, — that  is,  when  he  speaks  about  business.  Ye 
ken  yoursell,  that  Miss  Clara  is  no  just  like  other  folks ; 
and  were  I  you — it's  my  duty  to  speak  plain — I  wad 
e'en  gie  in  a  bit  scroll  of  a  petition  to  the  Lords,  to  be 
appointed  Curator  Bonis,  in  respect  of  her  incapacity  to 
manage  her  own  affairs." 

VOL.   XXXIII  11 


102  WA.VERLEY    NOVELS. 

"  Meiklewham,"    said   Mowbray,     "  you    are    a  " ■ 

and  then  stopped  short. 

"  What  am  I,  Mr.  Mowbray  ? "  said  Meiklewham, 
somewhat  sternly — "  What  am  I  ?  I  wad  be  glad  to  ken 
what  I  am." 

"  A  very  good  lawyer,  I  dare  say,"  replied  St.  Ronan's, 
who  was  too  much  in  the  power  of  his  agent  to  give  way 
to  his  first  impulse.  "  But  I  must  tell  you,  that  rather 
than  take  such  a  measure  against  poor  Clara,  as  you 
recommend,  I  would  give  her  up  the  estate,  and  become 
an  ostler  or  a  postilion  for  the  rest  of  my  life." 

"  Ah,  St.  Ronan's,"  said  the  man  of  law,  "  if  you  had 
wished  to  keep  up  the  auld  house,  you  should  have  taken 
another  trade,  than  to  become  an  ostler  or  a  postilion. 
What  ailed  you,  man,  but  to  have  been  a  lawyer  as  weel 
as  other  folks?  My  auld  master  had  a  wee  bit  Latin 
about  rerum  dominos  gentcmque  togatam,  whilk  signified, 
he  said,  that  all  lairds  should  be  lawyers." 

"  All  lawyers  are  likely  to  become  lairds,  I  think," 
replied  Mowbray ;  "  they  purchase  our  acres  by  the 
thousand,  and  pay  us,  according  to  the  old  story,  with  a 
multiplepoinding,  as  your  learned  friends  call  it,  Mr. 
Meiklewham." 

"  Weel — and  mightna  you  have  purchased  as  weel  as 
other  folks  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  replied  the  Laird ;  "  I  have  no  turn  for  that 
service,  I  should  only  have  wasted  bombazine  on  my 
shoulders,  and  flour  upon  my  three-tailed  wig — should 
but  have  lounged  away  my  mornings  in  the  Outer-House, 
and  my  evenings  at  the  play-house,  and  acquired  no 
more  law  than  what  would  have  made  me  a  wise  justice 
at  a  Small-debt  Court." 

"  If  you  gained  little,  you  would  have  lost  as  little," 


st.  ronan's  well.  163 

said  Meiklewham  ;  "  and  albeit  ye  were  nae  great  gun  at 
the  bar,  ye  might  aye  have  gotten  a  Sheriffdom,  or  a 
Commissaryship,  amang  the  lave,  to  keep  the  banes 
green ;  and  sae  ye  might  have  saved  your  estate  from 
deteriorating,  if  ye  didna  mend  it  muckle." 

"  Yes,  but  I  could  not  have  had  the  chance  of  doub- 
ling it,  as  I  might  have  done,"  answered  Mowbray,  "  had 
that  inconstant  jade,  Fortune,  but  stood  a  moment  faith- 
ful to  me.  I  tell  you,  Mick,  that  I  have  been  within  this 
twelvemonth,  worth  a  hundred  thousand — worth  fifty 
thousand — worth  nothing,  but  the  remnant  of  this 
wretched  estate,  which  is  too  little  to  do  one  good  while 
it  is  mine,  though,  were  it  sold,  I  could  start  again,  and 
mend  my  hand  a  little." 

"Ay,  ay,  just  fling  the  helve  after  the  hatchet,"  said 
his  legal  adviser — "  that's  a'  you  think  of.  What  signi- 
fies winning  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  if  you  win  them 
to  lose  them  a'  again  ?  " 

"  What  signifies  it  ? "  replied  Mowbray.  "  Why,  it 
signifies  as  much  to  a  man  of  spirit,  as  having  won  a 
battle  signifies  to  a  general — no  matter  that  he  is  beaten 
afterwards  in  his  turn,  he  knows  there  is  luck  for  him  as 
well  as  others,  and  so  he  has  spirit  to  try  it  again.  Here 
is  the  young  Earl  of  Etherington  will  be  amongst  us  in 
a  day  or  two — they  say  he  is  up  to  every  thing — if  I 
had  but  five  hundred  to  begin  with,  I  should  be  soon  up 
to  him." 

"  Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  Meiklewham,  "  I  am  sorry  for 
ye.  I  have  been  your  house's  man-of-business — I  may 
say,  in  some  measure,  your  house's  servant — and  now  I 
am  to  see  an  end  of  it  all,  and  just  by  the  lad  that  I 
thought  maist  likely  to  set  it  up  again  better  than  ever ; 
for,  to  do  ye  justice,  you  have  aye  had  an  ee  to  your  ain 


164  WAVEKLEY    NOVELS. 

interest,  sae  far  as  your  lights  gaed.  It  brings  tears  into 
my  auld  een." 

"  Never  weep  for  the  matter,  Mick,"  answered  Mow- 
bray ;  "  some  of  it  will  stick,  my  old  boy,  in  your  pock- 
ets, if  not  in  mine — your  service  will  not  be  altogether  gra- 
tuitous, my  old  friend — the  labourer  is  worthy  of  his  hire." 

"  Weel,  I  wot  is  he,"  said  the  writer ;  "  but  double 
•fees  would  hardly  carry  folk  through  some  wark.  But 
if  ye  will  have  siller,  ye  maun  have  siller — but,  I  war- 
rant, it  goes  just  where  the  rest  gaed." 

"  No,  by  twenty  devils  !  "  exclaimed  Mowbray,  "  to  fail 
this  time  is  impossible — Jack  Wolverine  was  too  strong 
for  Etherington  at  any  thing  he  could  name ;  and  I  can 
beat  Wolverine  from  the  Land's  End  to  Johnnie  Groat's 
— but  there  must  be  something  to  go  upon — the  blunt 
must  be  had,  Mick." 

"  Very  likely — nae  doubt — that  is  always  provided  it 
can  be  had,"  answered  the  legal  adviser. 

"  That's  your  business,  my  old  cock,"  said  Mowbray. 
"  This  youngster  will  be  here  perhaps  to-morrow,  with 
money  in  both  pockets — he  takes  up  his  rents  as  he 
comes  down,  Mick — think  of  that  my  old  friend." 

"  Weel  for  them  that  have  rents  to  take  up,"  said 
Meiklewham ;  "  ours  are  lying  rather  ower  low  to  be 
lifted  at  present. — But  are  you  sure  this  Earl  is  a  man 
to  mell  with  ? — are  you  sure  ye  can  win  of  him,  and  that 
if  you  do,  he  can  pay  his  losings,  Mr.  Mowbray  ? — be- 
cause I  have  kend  mony  ane  come  for  wool,  and  gang 
hame  shorn  ;  and  though  ye  are  a  clever  young  gentle- 
man, and  I  am  bound  to  suppose  ye  ken  as  much  about 
life  as  most  folk,  and  all  that,  yet  some  gate  or  other  ye 
have  aye  come  off  at  the  losing  hand,  as  ye  have  ower 
much  reason  to  ken  this  day — howbeit" 


ST.    ROXAX'S    WELL.  1G5 

"  Oh,  the  devil  take  your  gossip,  my  dear  Mick  !  If 
you  can  give  no  help,  spare  drowning  me  with  your 
pother.  "Why,  man,  I  was  a  fresh  hand — had  my  ap- 
prentice-fees to  pay — and  these  are  no  trifles,  Mick. — ■ 
But  what  of  that  ? — I  am  free  of  the  company  now,  and 
can  trade  on  my  own  bottom." 

"  Aweel,  aweel,  I  wish  it  may  be  sae,"  said  Meikle- 
wham. 

"  It  will  be  so,  and  it  shall  be  so,  my  trusty  friend,"  re- 
plied Mowbray,  cheerily,  "so  you  will  but  help  me  to 
the  stock  to  trade  with." 

"  The  stock  ? — what  d'ye  ca'  the  stock  ?  I  ken  nae 
stock  that  ye  have  left." 

"  But  you  have  plenty,  my  old  boy — Come,  sell  out  a 
few  of  your  three  per  cents ;  I  will  pay  difference — in- 
terest— exchange — every  thing." 

"  Ay,  ay — every  thing  or  naething,"  answered  Meikle- 
wham ;  "  but  as  you  are  sae  very  pressing,  I  hae  been 
thinking — Whan  is  the  siller  wanted  ?  " 

"  This  instant — this  day — to-morrow  at  farthest !  "  ex- 
claimed the  proposed  borrower. 

"  Wh — ew  ! "  whistled  the  lawyer,  with  a  long  prolon- 
gation of  the  note  ;  "  the  thing  is  impossible." 

"  It  must  be,  Mick,  for  all  that,"  answered  Mr.  Mow- 
bray, who  knew  by  experience  that  impossible,  when 
uttered  by  his  accommodating^  friend  in  this  tone,  meant 
only,  when  interpreted,  extremely  difficult,  and  very  ex- 
pensive. 

"Then  it  must  be  by  Miss  Clara  selling  her  stock, 
now  that  ye  speak  of  stock,"  said  Meiklewham  ;  "  I  won- 
der ye  didna  think  of  this  before." 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  dumb  rather  than  that  you  had 
mentioned  it  now,"  said  Mowbray,  starting,  as  if  stung 


166  WAVEKLEY    NOVELS. 

by  an  adder — "  What,  Clara's  pittance  ! — the  trifle  my 
aunt  left  her  for  her  own  fanciful  expenses — her  own 
little  private  store,  that  she  puts  to  so  many  good  pur- 
poses— p0or  Clara,  that  has  so  little  ! — And  why  not 
rather  your  own,  Master  Meiklewham,  who  call  yourself 
the  friend  and  servant  of  our  family  ?  " 

"  Ay,  St.  Ronan's,"  answered  Meiklewham,  "  that  is 
a'  very  true — but  service  is  nae  inheritance  ;  and  as  for 
friendship,  it  begins  at  hame,  as  wise  folks  have  said  lang 
before  our  time.  And  for  that  matter,  I  think  they  that 
are  nearest  sib  should  take  maist  risk.  You  are  nearer 
and  dearer  to  your  sister,  St.  Ronan's,  than  you  are  to 
poor  Saunders  Meiklewham,  that  hasna  sae  muckle 
gentle  blood  as  would  supper  up  a  hungry  flea." 

"  I  will  not  do  this,"  said  St.  Ronan's,  walking  up  and 
down  with  much  agitation ;  for,  selfish  as  he  was,  he 
loved  his  sister,  and  loved  her  the  more  on  account  of 
those  peculiarities  which  rendered  his  protection  indis- 
pensable to  her  comfortable  existence — "  I  will  not,"  he 
said,  "  pillage  her,  come  on't  what  will.  I  will  rather 
go  a  volunteer  to  the  Continent,  and  die  like  a  gentle- 
man." 

He  continued  to  pace  the  room  in  a  moody  silence, 
which  began  to  disturb  his  companion,  who  had  not  been 
hitherto  accustomed  to  see  his  patron  take  matters  so 
deeply.  At  length  he  made  an  attempt  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  silent  and  sullen  ponderer. 

"  Mr.  Mowbray  " — no  answer — "  I  was  saying,  St. 
Ronan's  " — still  no  reply.  "  I  have  been  thinking  about 
this  matter — and  " 

"  And  what,  sir  ? "  said  St.  Ronan's,  stopping  short, 
and  speaking  in  a  stern  tone  of  voice. 

"  And  to  speak  truth,  I   see  little  feasibility  in  the 


st.  ronan's  well.  167 

matter  ony  way ;  for  if  ye  had  the  siller  in  your  pocket 
to-day,  it  would  be  a'  in  the  Earl  of  Etherington's  the 
morn." 

"  Pshaw  !  you  are  a  fool,"  answered  Mowbray. 

"  That  is  not  unlikely,"  said  Meiklewham ;  "  but  so  is 
Sir  Bingo  Binks,  and  yet  he's  had  the  better  of  you,  St. 
Eonan's,  this  twa  or  three  times." 

"  It  is  false  ! — he  has  not,"  answered  St.  Ronan's, 
fiercely. 

"  Weel  I  wot,"  resumed  Meiklewham,  "  he  took  you  in 
about  the  saumon  fish,  and  some  other  wager  ye  lost  to 
him  this  very  day." 

"  I  tell  you  once  more,  Meiklewham,  you  are  a  fool, 
and  no  more  up  to  my  trim  than  you  are  to  the  longitude 
— Bingo  is  got  shy — I  must  give  him  a  little  line,  that  is 
all — then  I  shall  strike  him  to  purpose — I  am  as  sure  of 
him  as  I  am  of  the  other — I  know  the  fly  they  will  both 
rise  to — this  cursed  want  of  five  hundred  will  do  me  out 
of  ten  thousand  !  " 

"  If  you  are  so  certain  of  being  the  bagster — so  very 
certain,  I  mean,  of  sweeping  stakes, — what  harm  will 
Miss  Clara  come  to  by  your  having  the  use  of  her 
siller  ?  You  can  make  it  up  to  her  for  the  risk  ten 
times  told." 

"And  so  I  can,  by  Heaven!"  said  St.  Ronan's. 
"  Mick,  you  are  right,  and  I  am  a  scrupulous,  chicken- 
hearted  fool.     Clara  shall  have  a  thousand  for  her  poor 

five  hundred — she  shall,  by .     And  I  will  carry  her 

to  Edinburgh  for  a  season,  or  perhaps  to  London,  and  we 
will  have  the  best  advice  for  her  case,  and  the  best  com- 
pany to  divert  her.  And  if  they  think  her  a  little  odd 
— why,  d — n  me,  I  am  her  brother,  and  will  bear  her 
through   it.     Yes — yes — you're  right ;  there  can  be  no 


1G8  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

hurt  in  borrowing  five  hundred  of  her  for  a  few  days, 
when  such  profit  may  be  made  on't,  both  for  her  and  me. 
— Here,  fill  the  glasses,  my  old  boy,  and  drink  success  to 
it,  for  you  are  right." 

"  Here  is  success  to  it,  with  all  my  heart,"  answered 
Meiklewham,  heartily  glad  to  see  his  patron's  sanguine 
temper  arrive  at  this  desirable  conclusion,  and  yet  willing 
to  hedge  in  his  own  credit ;  "  but  it  is  you  are  right,  and 
not  me,  for  I  advise  nothing  except  on  your  assurances, 
that  you  can  make  your  ain  of  this  English  earl,  and  of 
this  Sir  Bingo — and  if  you  can  but  do  that,  I  am  sure  it 
would  be  unwise  and  unkind  in  ony  ane  of  your  friends 
to  stand  in  your  light." 

"  True,  Mick,  true,"  answered  Mowbray. — "  And  yet 
dice  and  cards  are  but  bones  and  pasteboard,  and  the  best 
horse  ever  started  may  slip  a  shoulder  before  he  get  to 
the  winning-post — and  so  I  wish  Clara's  venture  had  not 
been  in  such  a  bottom. — But,  hang  it,  care  killed  a  cat — 
I  can  hedge  as  well  as  any  one,  if  the  odds  turn  up 
against  me — so  let  us  have  the  cash,  Mick." 

"  Aha !  but  there  go  two  words  to  that  bargain — the 
stock  stands  in  my  name,  and  Tam  Turnpenny  the  bank- 
er's, as  trustees  for  Miss  Clara — Now,  get  you  her  letter 
to  us,  desiring  us  to  sell  out  and  to  pay  you  the  proceeds, 
and  Tam  Turnpenny  will  let  you  have  five  hundred 
pounds  instanter,  on  the  faith  of  the  transaction ;  for  I 
fancy  you  would  desire  a'  the  stock  to  be  sold  out,  and  it 
will  produce  more  than  six  hundred,  or  seven  hundred 
pounds  either — and  I  reckon  you  will  be  selling  out  the 
whole — it's  needless  making  tvva  bites  of  a  cherry." 

"  True,"  answered  Mowbray ;  "  since  we  must  be 
rogues,  or  something  like  it,  let  us  make  it  worth  our 
while  at  least ;  so  give  me  a  form  of  the  letter,  and  Clara 


ST.  eoxan's  well.  169 

shall  copy  it — that  is,  if  she  consents ;  for  you  know  she 
can  keep  her  own  opinion  as  well  as  any  other  woman  in 
the  world." 

"  And  that,"  said  Meiklewham,  "  is  as  the  wind  will 
keep  its  way,  preach  to  it  as  you  like.  But  if  I  might 
advise  about  Miss  Clara — I  wad  say  naething  mair  than 
that  I  was  stressed  for  the  penny  money ;  for  I  mistake 
her  muckle  if  she  would  like  to  see  you  ganging  to  pitch 
and  toss  wi'  this  lord  and  tither  baronet  for  her  aunt's 
three  per  cents — I  ken  she  has  some  queer  notions — she 
gies  away  the  feck  of  the  dividends  on  that  very  stock 
in  downright  charity." 

"  And  I  am  in  hazard  to  rob  the  poor  as  well  as  my 
sister !  "  said  Mowbray,  filling  once  more  his  own  glass 
and  his  friend's.  "  Come,  Mick,  no  skylights — here  is 
Clara's  health — she  is  an  angel — and  I  am — what  I  will 
not  call  myself,  and  suffer  no  other  man  to  call  me. — But 
I  shall  win  this  time — I  am  sure  I  shall,  since  Clara's 
fortune  depends  upon  it." 

"  Now,  I  think,  on  the  other  hand,"  said  Meiklewham, 
"  that  if  any  thing  should  chance  wrang,  (and  Heaven 
kens  that  the  best-laid  schemes  will  gang  ajee,)  it  will  be 
a  great  comfort  to  think  that  the  ultimate  losers  will  only 
be  the  poor  folk,  that  have  the  parish  between  them  and 
absolute  starvation — if  your  sister  spent  her  ain  siller,  it 
would  be  a  very  different  story." 

"  Hush,  Mick — for  God's  sake,  hush,  mine  honest 
friend,"  said  Mowbray ;  "  it  is  quite  true  ;  thou  art  a 
rare  counsellor,  in  time  of  need,  and  hast  as  happy  a 
manner  of  reconciling  a  man's  conscience  with  his  neces- 
sities, as  might  set  up  a  score  of  casuists  ;  but  beware, 
my  most  zealous  counsellor  and  confessor,  how  you  drive 
the  nail  too  far — I  promise  you  some  of  the  chaffing  you 


170 


WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 


are  at  just  now  rather  abates  my  pluck. — Well — give  me 
your  scroll — I  will  to  Clara  with  it — though  I  would 
rather  meet  the  best  shot  in  Britain,  with  ten  paces  of 
green  sod  betwixt  us."  So  saying,  he  left  the  apart- 
ment. 


••'(.?  sr  <J  •- 


ST.  ronan's  well.  171 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FRATERNAL    LOVE. 

Nearest  of  blood  should  still  be  next  in  love ; 
And  when  I  see  these  happy  children  playing, 
While  William  gathers  flowers  for  Ellen's  ringlets, 
And  Ellen  dresses  flies  for  William's  angle, 
I  scarce  can  think,  that  in  advancing  life, 
Coldness,  unkindness,  interest,  or  suspicion, 
Will  e'er  divide  that  unity  so  sacred, 
Which  Nature  bound  at  birth. 

Anonymous. 

When  Mowbray  had  left  his  dangerous  adviser,  in 
order  to  steer  the  course  which  his  agent  had  indicated, 
without  offering  to  recommend  it,  he  went  to  the  little 
parlour  which  his  sister  was  wont  to  term  her  own,  and 
in  which  she  spent  great  part  of  her  time.  It  was  fitted 
up  with  a  sort  of  fanciful  neatness ;  and  in  its  perfect 
arrangement  and  good  order,  formed  a  strong  contrast  to 
the  other  apartments  of  the  old  and  neglected  mansion- 
house.  A  number  of  little  articles  lay  on  the  work-table, 
indicating  the  elegant,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  unset- 
tled turn  of  the  inhabitant's  mind.  There  were  unfinished 
drawings,  blotted  music,  needle-work  of  various  kinds, 
and  many  other  little  female  tasks ;  all  undertaken  with 
zeal,  and  so  far  prosecuted  with  art  and  elegance,  but  all 
flung  aside  before  any  one  of  them  was  completed. 


172  \\  AVERLEY    NOVELS. 

Clara  herself  sat  upon  a  little  low  couch  by  the  window, 
reading,  or  at  least  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book,  in 
which  she  seemed  to  read.  But  instantly  starting  up 
when  she  saw  her  brother,  she  ran  towards  hirn  with  the 
most  cordial  cheerfulness. 

"  Welcome,  welcome,  my  dear  John  ;  this  is  very  kind 
of  you  to  come  to  visit  your  recluse  sister.  I  have  been 
trying  to  nail  my  eyes  and  my  understanding  to  a  stupid 
book  here,  because  they  say  too  much  thought  is  not  quite 
good  for  me.  But,  either  the  man's  dulness,  or  my  want 
of  the  power  of  attending,  makes  my  eyes  pass  over  the 
page,  just  as  one  seems  to  read  in  a  dream,  without  being 
able  to  comprehend  one  word  of  the  matter.  You  shall 
talk  to  me,  and  that  will  do  better.  What  can  I  give  you 
to  show  that  you  are  welcome  ?  I  am  afraid  tea  is  all  I 
have  to  offer,  and  that  you  set  too  little  store  by." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  of  a  cup  at  present,"  said  Mowbray, 
"  for  I  wish  to  speak  with  you." 

"  Then  Jessy  shall  make  it  ready  instantly,"  said  Miss 
Mowbray,  ringing,  and  giving  orders  to  her  waiting-maid 
— "  but  you  must  not  be  ungrateful,  John,  and  plague  me 
with  any  of  the  ceremonial  for  your  fete — '  sufficient  for 
the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  I  will  attend,  and  play  my 
part  as  prettily  as  you  can  desire ;  but  to  think  of  it  be- 
forehand, would  make  both  my  head  and  my  heart  ache ; 
and  so  I  beg  you  will  spare  me  on  the  subject." 

"  Why,  you  wild  kitten,"  said  Mowbray,  "  you  turn 
every  day  more  shy  of  human  communication — we  shall 
have  you  take  the  woods  one  day,  and  become  as  savage 
as  the  Princess  Caraboo.  But  I  will  plague  you  about 
nothing  if  I  can  help  it.  If  matters  go  not  smooth  on 
the  great  day,  they  must  e'en  blame  the  dull  thick  head 
that  had   no  fair  lady  to  help  him  in  his  need.     But, 


ST.  ronan's  well.  173 

Clara,  I  had  something  more  material  to  say  to  you — 
something  indeed  of  the  last  importance." 

"  What  is  it?"  said  Clara,  in  a  tone  of  voice  approach- 
in°-  to  a  scream — "  In  the  name  of  God,  what  is  it  ?  You 
know  not  how  you  terrify  me  ! " 

"  Nay,  you  start  at  a  shadow,  Clara,"  answered  her 
brother.  "  It  is  no  such  uncommon  matter  neither — good 
faith,  it  is  the  most  common  distress  in  the  world,  so  far 
as  I  know  the  world — I  am  sorely  pinched  for  money." 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  replied  Clara,  in  a  tone  which  seemed 
to  her  brother  as  much  to  underrate  the  difficulty,  when  it 
was  explained,  as  her  fears  had  exaggerated  it  before  she 
heard  its  nature. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  Indeed  it  is  all,  and  comprehends  a 
great  deal  of  vexation.  I  shall  be  hard  run  unless  I  can 
get  a  certain  sum  of  money — and  I  must  e'en  ask  you  if 
you  can  help  me  ?  " 

"  Help  you  ?  "  replied  Clara  ;  "  Yes,  with  all  my  heart 
— but  you  know  my  purse  is  a  light  one — more  than 
half  of  my  last  dividend  is  in  it,  however,  and  I  am  sure, 
John,  I  shall  be  happy  if  it  can  serve  you — especially  as 
that  will  at  least  show  that  your  wants  are  but  small  ones." 

"  Alas,  Clara,  if  you  would  help  me,"  said  her  brother, 
half  repentant  of  his  purpose,  "  you  must  draw  the  neck 
of  the  goose  which  lays  the  golden  eggs — you  must  lend 
me  the  whole  stock." 

"And  why  not,  John,"  said  the  simple-hearted  girl, 
"  if  it  will  do  you  a  kindness  ?  Are  you  not  my  natural 
guardian  ?  Are  you  not  a  kind  one  ?  And  is  not  my 
little  fortune  entirely  at  your  disposal  ?  You  will,  I  am 
sure,  do  all  for  the  best." 

"  I  fear  I  may  not,"  said  Mowbray,  starting  from  her, 
and  more  distressed  by  her  sudden  and  unsuspicious  com- 


174  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

pliance,  than  he  would  have  been  by  difficulties,  or  re- 
monstrance. In  the  latter  case,  he  would  have  stifled 
the  pangs  of  conscience  amid  the  manoeuvres  which  he 
must  have  resorted  to  for  obtaining  her  acquiescence  ;  as 
matters  stood,  there  was  all  the  difference  that  there  is  be- 
tween slaughtering  a  tame  and  unresisting  animal,  and  pur- 
suing wild  game,  until  the  animation  of  the  sportsman's 
exertions  overcomes  the  internal  sense  of  his  own  cruelty. 
The  same  idea  occurred  to  Mowbray  himself. 

"  By  G — ,"  he  said,  "  this  is  like  shooting  the  bird  sit- 
ting.— Clara,"  he  added,  "  I  fear  this  money  will  scarce 
be  employed  as  you  would  wish." 

"  Employ  it  as  you  yourself  please,  my  dearest  brother," 
she  replied,  "  and  I  will  believe  it  is  all  for  the  best." 

"  Nay,  I  am  doing  for  the  best,"  he  replied  ;  "  at  least, 
I  am  doing  what  must  be  done,  for  I  see  no  other  way 
through  it — so  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  copy  this  paper, 
and  bid  adieu  to  bank  dividends — for  a  little  while  at 
least.  I  trust  soon  to  double  this  little  matter  for  you,  if 
Fortune  will  but  stand  my  friend." 

"  Do  not  trust  to  Fortune,  John,"  said  Clara,  smiling, 
though  with  an  expression  of  deep  melancholy.  "  Alas  ! 
she  has  never  been  a  friend  to  our  family — not  at  least 
for  many  a  day." 

"  She  favours  the  bold,  say  my  old  grammatical  exer- 
cises," answered  her  brother;  "and  I  must  trust  her,  were 
she  as  changeable  as  a  weathercock. — And  yet — if  she 
should  jilt  me  ! — What  will  you  do — what  will  you  say, 
Clara,  if  I  am  unable,  contrary  to  my  hope,  trust,  and  ex- 
pectation, to  repay  you  this  money  within  a  short  time  ?  " 

"Do!"  replied  Clara;  "I  must  do  without  it,  you 
know  ;  and  for  saying,  I  will  not  say  a  woi*d." 

"  True,"  replied  Mowbray,  "  but  your   little   expenses 


ST.    RONAX'S    WELL.  175 

— your  chanties — your  halt  and  blind — your  round  of 
paupers  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  can  manage  all  that  too.  Look  you  here, 
John,  how  many  half-worked  trifles  there  are.  The 
needle  or  the  pencil  is  the  resource  of  all  distressed 
heroines,  you  know  ;  and  I  promise  you,  though  I  have 
been  a  little  idle  and  unsettled  of  late,  yet,  when  I  do  set 
about  it,  no  Etnmeline  or  Ethelinde  of  them  all  ever  sent 
such  loads  of  trumpery  to  market  as  I  shall,  or  made 
such  wealth  as  I  will  do.  I  dare  say  Lady  Penelope, 
and  all  the  gentry  at  the  Well,  will  purchase,  and  will 
raffle,  and  do  all  sorts  of  things  to  encourage  the  pensive 
performer.  I  will  send  them  such  lots  of  landscapes  with 
sap-green  trees,  and  mazareen-blue  rivers,  and  portraits 
that  will  terrify  the  originals  themselves — and  handker- 
chiefs and  turbans,  with  needle-work  scalloped  exactly 
like  the  walks  on  the  Belvidere — Why,  I  shall  become  a 
little  fortune  in  the  first  season." 

"  No,  Clara,"  said  John,  gravely,  for  a  virtuous  resolu- 
tion had  gained  the  upper  hand  in  his  bosom,  while  his 
sister  ran  on  in  this  manner. — "  We  will  do  something 
better  than  all  this.  If  this  kind  help  of  yours  does  not 
fetch  me  through,  I  am  determined  I  will  cut  the  whole 
concern.  It  is  but  standing  a  laugh  or  two,  and  hearing 
a  gay  fellow  say,  Damme,  Jack,  are  you  turned  clodhop- 
per at  last ! — that  is  the  worst.  Dogs,  horses,  and  all, 
shall  go  to  the  hammer ;  we  will  keep  nothing  but  your 
pony,  and  I  will  trust  to  a  pair  of  excellent  legs.  There 
is  enough  left  of  the  old  acres  to  keep  us  in  the  way  you 
like  best,  and  that  I  will  learn  to  like.  I  will  work  in 
the  garden,  and  work  in  the  forest,  mark  my  own  trees, 
and  cut  them  myself,  keep  my  own  accounts,  and  send 
Saunders  Meiklewham  to  the  devil." 


176  WAVERLET   NOVELS. 

"  That  last  is  the  best  resolution  of  all,  John,"  said 
Clara  ;  "  and  if  such  a  day  should  come  round,  I  should 
be  the  happiest  of  living  creatures — I  should  not  have  a 
grief  left  in  the  world — if  I  had,  you  should  never  see 
or  hear  of  it — it  should  lie  here,"  she  said,  pressing  her 
hand  on  her  bosom,  "  buried  as  deep  as  a  funereal  urn  in 
a  cold  sepulchre.  Oh  !  could  we  not  begin  such  a  life- 
to-morrow  ?  If  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  this  trifle 
of  money  should  be  got  rid  of  first,  throw  it  into  the 
river,  and  think  you  have  lost  it  amongst  gamblers  and 
horse-jockeys." 

Clara's  eyes,  which  she  fondly  fixed  on  her  brother's 
face,  glowed  through  the  tears  which  her  enthusiasm 
called  into  them,  while  she  thus  addressed  him.  Mow- 
bray, on  his  part,  kept  his  looks  fixed  on  the  ground,  with 
a  flush  on  his  cheek,  that  expressed  at  once  false  pride 
and  real  shame. 

At  length  he  looked  up : — "  My  dear  girl,"  he  said, 
"  how  foolishly  you  talk,  and  how  foolishly  I,  that  have 
twenty  things  to  do,  stand  here  listening  to  you  !  All 
will  go  smooth  on  my  plan — if  it  should  not,  we  have 
yours  in  reserve,  and  I  swear  to  you  I  will  adopt  it.  The 
trifle  which  this  letter  of  yours  enables  me  to  command, 
may  have  luck  in  it,  and  we  must  not  throw  up  the  cards 
while  we  have  a  chance  of  the  game. — Were  I  to  cut 
from  this  moment,  these  few  hundreds  would  make  us 
little  better  or  little  worse — so  you  see  we  have  two 
strings  to  our  bow.  Luck  is  sometimes  against  me,  that 
is  true — but  upon  true  principle,  and  playing  on  the 
square,  I  can  manage  the  best  of  them,  or  my  name  is 
not  Mowbray.  Adieu,  my  dearest  Clara."  So  saying, 
he  kissed  her  cheek  with  a  more  than  usual  degree  of 
affection. 


ST.    RON  AST  S    WELL.  177 

Ere  he  could  raise  himself  from  bis  stooping  posture, 
she  threw  her  arm  kindly  over  his  neck,  and  said  with  a 
tone  of  the  deepest  interest,  "  My  dearest  brother,  your 
slightest  wish  has  been,  and  ever  sball  be,  a  law  to  me — 
Oh  !  if  you  would  but  grant  me  one  request  in  return  !  " 

"  What  is  it,  you  silly  girl  ?  "  said  Mowbray,  gently 
disengaging  himself  from  her  hold. — "  What  is  it  you 
can  have  to  ask  that  needs  such  a  solemn  preface  ? — Re- 
member, I  hate  prefaces ;  and  when  I  happen  to  open  a 
book,  always  skip  them." 

Without  preface,  then,  my  dearest  brother,  will  you, 
for  my  sake,  avoid  those  quarrels  in  which  the  people 
yonder  are  eternally  engaged  ?  I  never  go  down  there 
but  I  hear  of  some  new  brawl ;  and  I  never  lay  my  head 
down  to  sleep,  but  I  dream  that  you  are  the  victim  of  it. 
Even  last  night  " 

"  Nay,  Clara,  if  you  begin  to  tell  your  dreams,  we 
shall  never  have  done.  Sleeping,  to  be  sure,  is  the  most 
serious  employment  of  your  life — for  as  to  eating,  you 
hardly  match  a  sparrow ;  but  I  entreat  you  to  sleep  with- 
out dreaming,  or  to  keep  your  visions  to  yourself. — Why 
do  you  keep  such  fast  hold  of  me  ? — What  on  earth  can 
you  be  afraid  of? — Surely  you  do  not  think  the  block- 
head Binks,  or  any  other  of  the  good  folks  below  yonder, 
dared  to  turn  on  me  ?  Egad,  I  wish  they  would  pluck 
up  a  little  mettle,  that  I  might  have  an  excuse  for  drill- 
ing them.  Gad,  I  would  soon  teach  them  to  follow  at 
heel." 

"  No,  John,"  replied  his  sister  ;  "  it  is  not  of  such  men 
as  these  that  I  have  any  fear — and  yet,  cowards  are 
sometimes  driven  to  desperation,  and  become  more  dan- 
gerous than  better  men — but  it  is  not  such  as  these  that 
I  fear.     But  there  are  men  in  the  world  whose  qualities 

VOL.     XXXIII.  12 


178  WAVKKLEY    NOVELS. 

are  beyond  their  seeming — whose  spirit  and  courage  lie 
bidden,  like  metals  in  the  mine,  under  an  unmarked  or  a 
plain  exterior. — You  may  meet  with  such — you  are  rash 
and  headlong,  and  apt  to  exercise  your  wit  without  always 
weighing  consequences,  and  thus" 

"  On  my  word,  Clara,"  answered  Mowbray,  "  you  are 
in  a  most  sermonizing  humour  this  morning !  the  parson 
himself  could  not  have  been  more  logical  or  profound. 
You  have  only  to  divide  your  discourse  into  heads,  and 
garnish  it  with  conclusions  for  use,  and  conclusions  for 
doctrine,  and  it  might  be  preached  before  a  whole  pres- 
bytery, with  every  chance  of  instruction  and  edification. 
But  I  am  a  man  of  the  world,  my  little  Clara ;  and 
though  I  wish  to  go  in  death's  way  as  little  as  possible,  I 
must  not  fear  the  raw-head  and  bloody-bones  neither. — 
And  who  the  devil  is  to  put  the  question  to  me  ? — I 
must  know  that,  Clara,  for  you  have  some  especial 
person  in  your  eye  when  you  bid  me  take  care  of 
quarrelling. 

Clara  could  not  become  paler  than  was  her  usual  com- 
plexion;  but  her  voice  faltered  as  she  eagerly  assured 
her  brother,  that  she  had  no  particular  person  in  her 
thoughts. 

"  Clara,"  said  her  brother,  "  do  you  remember,  when 
there  was  a  report  of  a  bogle  *  in  the  upper  orchard, 
when  we  were  both  children  ? — Do  you  remember  how 
you  were  perpetually  telling  me  to  take  care  of  the  bogle, 
and  keep  away  from  its  haums  ? — And  do  you  remember 
my  going  on  purpose  to  detect  the  bogle,  finding  the  cow- 
boy, with  a  shirt  about  him,  busied  in  pulling  pears,  and 
treating  him  to  a  handsome  drubbing? — I  am  the  same 
Jack  Mowbray  still,  as  ready  to  face  danger,  and  unmask 
*  Bogle — in  English,  Goblin. 


ST.    ROXAX's    WELL.  179 

imposition  ;  and  your  fears,  Clara,  will  only  make  me 
Watch  more  closely,  till  I  find  out  the  real  object  of  them. 
If  you  warn  me  of  quarrelling  with  some  one,  it  must  be 
because  you  know  some  one  who  is  not  unlikely  to 
quarrel  with  me.  You  are  a  flighty  and  fanciful  girl, 
but  you  have  sense  enough  not  to  trouble  either  yourself 
or  me  on  a  point  of  honour,  save  when  th^re  is  some 
good  reason  for  it." 

Clara  once  more  protested,  and  it  was  with  the  deepest 
anxiety  to  be  believed,  that  what  she  had  said  arose  only 
out  of  the  general  consequences  which  she  apprehended 
from  the  line  of  conduct  her  brother  had  adopted,  and 
which,  in  her  apprehension,  was  so  likely  to  engage  him 
in  the  broils  that  divided  the  good  company  at  the  Spring. 
Mowbray  listened  to  her  explanation  with  an  air  of 
doubt,  or  rather  incredulity,  sipped  a  cup  of  tea  which 
had  for  some  time  been  placed  before  him  ;  and  at  length 
replied,  "  Well,  Clara,  whether  I  am  right  or  wrong  in 
my  guess,  it  would  be  cruel  to  torment  you  any  more, 
remembering  what  you  have  just  done  for  me.  But  do 
justice  to  your  brother,  and  believe,  that  when  you  have 
any  thing  to  ask  of  him,  an  explicit  declaration  of  your 
wishes  will  answer  your  purpose  much  better  than  any 
ingenious  oblique  attempts  to  influence  me.  Give  up 
all  thoughts  of  such,  my  dear  Clara — you  are  but  a 
poor  manoeuvrer,  but  were  you  the  very  Machiavel  of 
your  sex,  you  should  not  turn  the  flank  of  John  Mow- 
bray." 

He  left  the  room  as  he  spoke,  and  did  not  return, 
though  his  sister  twice  called  upon  him.  It  is  true  that 
she  uttez-ed  the  word  brother  so  faintly,  that  perhaps  the 
sound  did  not  reach  his  ears. — "  He  is  gone,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  have  had  no  power  to  speak  out !     I  am  like  the 


180  -WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

wretched  creatures,  who,  it  is  said,  lie  under  a  potent 
charm,  that  prevents  them  alike  from  shedding  tears  and 
from  confessing  their  crimes — Yes,  there  is  a  spell  on 
this  unhappy  heart,  and  either  that  must  be  dissolved  or 
this  must  break." 


ST.  roxan's  well.  181 


CHAPTER   XII. 


THE    CHALLENGE. 


A  slight  note  I  have  about  me,  for  the  delivery  of  which  you  must  excuse 
me.  It  is  an  office  which  friendship  calls  upon  me  to  do,  and  no  way  offensive 
to  you,  as  I  desire  nothing  but  right  on  both  sides. 

King  and  no  Kino. 

The  intelligent  reader  may  recollect,  that  Tyrrel 
departed  from  the  Fox  Hotel  on  terms  not  altogether  so 
friendly  towards  the  company  as  those  under  which  he 
entered  it.  Indeed,  it  occurred  to  him,  that  he  might 
probably  have  heard  something  farther  on  the  subject, 
though,  amidst  matters  of  deeper  and  more  anxious  con- 
sideration, the  idea  only  passed  hastily  through  his  mind  ; 
and  two  days  having  gone  over  without  any  message 
from  Sir  Bingo  Binks,  the  whole  affair  glided  entirely 
out  of  his  memory. 

The  truth  was  that  although  never  old  woman  took 
more  trouble  to  collect  and  blow  up  with  her  bellows  the 
embers  of  her  decayed  fire,  than  Captain  MacTurk  kindly 
underwent  for  the  purpose  of  puffing  into  a  flame  the 
dying  sparkles  of  the  Baronet's  courage,  yet  two  days 
were  spent  in  fruitless  conferences  before  he  could  attain 
the  desired  point.  He  found  Sir  Bingo  on  these  different 
occasions  in  all  sorts  of  different  moods  of  mind,  and  dis- 
posed to  view  the  thing  in  all  shades  of  light,  except 


182  WAVERLKT   NOVELS. 

what  the  Captain  thought  was  the  true  one. — He  was  in 
a  drunken  humour — in  a  sullen  humour — in  a  thoughtless 
and  vilipending  humour — in  every  humour  hut  a  fighting 
one.  And  when  Captain  MacTurk  talked  of  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  company  at  the  Well,  Sir  Bingo  pretended  to 
take  offence,  said  the  company  might  go  to  the  devil,  and 
hinted  that  he  "did  them  sufficient  honour  by  gracing 
them  with  his  countenance,  but  did  not  mean  to  constitute 
them  any  judges  of  his  affairs.  The  fellow  was  a  raff, 
and  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him." 

Captain  MacTurk  would  willingly  have  taken  measures 
against  the  Baronet  himself,  as  in  a  state  of  contumacy, 
but  was  opposed  by  Winterblossom  and  other  members 
of  the  committee,  who  considered  Sir  Bingo  as  too  im- 
portant and  illustrious  a  member  of  their  society  to  be 
rashly  expelled  from  a  place  not  honoured  by  the  resi- 
dence of  many  persons  of  rank  ;  and  finally  insisted  that 
nothing  should  be  done  in  the  matter  without  the  advice 
of  Mowbray,  whose  preparations  for  his  solemn  festival 
on  the  following  Thursday  had  so  much  occupied  him, 
that  he  had  not  lately  appeared  at  the  Well. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  gallant  Captain  seemed  to 
experience  as  much  distress  of  mind,  as  if  some  stain 
had  lain  on  his  own  most  unblemished  of  reputations. 
He  went  up  and  down  upon  the  points  of  his  toes,  rising 
up  on  his  instep  with  a  jerk  which  at  once  expressed 
vexation  and  defiance — He  carried  his  nose  turned  up  in 
the  air,  like  that  of  a  pig  when  he  snuffs  the  approaching 
storm — He  spoke  in  monosyllables  when  he  spoke  at  all ; 
and — what  perhaps  illustrated  in  the  strongest  manner 
the  depth  of  his  feelings — he  refused,  in  face  of  the  whole 
company,  to  pledge  Sir  Bingo  in  a  glass  of  the  Baronet's 
peculiar  cogniac. 


ST.    EOXAX'S    WELL.  183 

At  length,  the  whole  Well  was  alarmed  by  the  report 
brought  by  a  smart  outrider,  that  the  young  Earl  of 
Etherington,  reported  to  be  rising  on  the  horizon  of 
fashion  as  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude,  intended  to  pass 
an  hour,  or  a  day,  or  a  week,  as  it  might  happen,  (for  his 
lordship  could  not  be  supposed  to  know  his  own  mind,) 
at  St.  Ronan's  Well. 

This  suddenly  put  all  in  motion.  Almanacs  were 
opened  to  ascertain  his  lordship's  age,  inquiries  were 
made  concerning  the  extent  of  his  fortune,  his  habits  were 
quoted,  his  tastes  were  guessed  at,  and  all  that  the  in- 
genuity of  the  Managing  Committee  could  devise  was 
resorted  to,  in  order  to  recommend  their  Spa  to  this 
favourite  of  fortune.  An  express  was  despatched  to 
Shaws-Castle  with  the  agreeable  intelligence  which  fired 
the  train  of  hope  that  led  to  Mowbray's  appropriation  of 
his  sister's  capital.  He  did  not,  however,  think  proper 
to  obey  the  summons  to  the  Spring  ;  for,  not  being  aware 
in  what  light  the  Earl  might  regard  the  worthies  there 
assembled,  he  did  not  desire  to  be  found  by  his  lordship 
in  any  strict  connexion  with  them. 

Sir  Bingo  Binks  was  in  a  different  situation.  The 
bravery  with  which  he  had  endured  the  censure  of  the 
place  began  to  give  way,  when  he  considered  that  a  per- 
son of  such  distinction  as  that  which  public  opinion  at- 
tached to  Lord  Etherington,  should  find  him  bodily  indeed 
at  St.  Ronan's,  but,  so  far  as  society  was  concerned,  on 
the  road  towards  the  ancient  city  of  Coventry ;  and  his 
banishment  thither,  incurred  by  that  most  unpardonable 
offence  in  modern  morality,  a  solecism  in  the  code  of 
honour.  Though  sluggish  and  inert  when  called  to 
action,  the  Baronet  was  by  no  means  an  absolute  coward  ; 
or,  if  so,  he  was  of  that  class  which  fights  when  reduced 


184  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

to  extremity.  He  manfully  sent  for  Captain  MacTurk, 
who  waited  upon  him  with  a  grave  solemnity  of  aspect, 
which  instantly  was  exchanged  for  a  radiant  joy,  when 
Sir  Bingo,  in  few  words,  empowered  him  to  carry  a  mes- 
sage  to  that  d — d  strolling  artist,  hy  whom  he  had  been 
insulted  three  days  since. 

"  By  Cot,"  said  the  Captain,  "  my  exceedingly  goot 
and  excellent  friend,  and  I  am  happy  to  do  such  a  favour 
for  you !  and  it's  well  you  have  thought  of  it  yourself ; 
because,  if  it  had  not  been  for  some  of  our  very  goot  and 
excellent  friends,  that  would  be  putting  their  spoon  into 
other  folk's  dish,  I  should  have  been  asking  you  a  civil 
question  myself,  how  you  came  to  dine  with  us,  with  all 
that  mud  and  mire  which  Mr.  Tyrrel's  grasp  has  left  upon 
the  collar  of  your  coat — you  understand  me. — But  it  is 
much  better  as  it  is,  and  I  will  go  to  the  man  with  all  the 
speed  of  light ;  and  though,  to  be  sure,  it  should  have 
been  sooner  thought  of,  yet  let  me  alone  to  make  an  ex- 
cuse for  that,  just  in  my  own  civil  way — better  late  thrive 
than  never  do  well,  you  know,  Sir  Bingo ;  and  if  you 
have  made  him  wait  a  little  while  for  his  morning,  you 
must  give  him  the  better  measure,  my  darling." 

So  saying,  he  awaited  no  reply,  lest  peradventure  the 
commission  with  which  he  was  so  hastily  and  unexpect- 
edly charged,  should  have  been  clogged  with  some  con- 
dition of  compromise.  No  such  proposal,  however,  was 
made  on  the  part  of  the  doughty  Sir  Bingo,  who  eyed  his 
friend  as  he  hastily  snatched  up  his  ratan  to  depart,  with 
a  dogged  look  of  obstinacy,  expressive,  to  use  his  own 
phrase,  of  a  determined  resolution  to  come  up  to  the 
scratch ;  and  when  he  heard  the  Captain's  parting  foot- 
steps, and  saw  the  door  shut  behind  him,  he  valiantly 
whistled  a  few  bars  of  Jenny  Sutton,  in  token  he  cared 
not  a  farthing  how  the  matter  was  to  end. 


ST.    EONAKS    WELL.  185 

With  a  swifter  pace  than  his  half-pay  leisure  usually 
encouraged,  or  than  his  habitual  dignity  permitted,  Cap- 
tain MacTurk  cleared  the  ground  betwixt  the  Spring  and 
its  gay  vicinity,  and  the  ruins  of  the  Aultoun,  where 
reigned  our  Mend  Meg  Dods,  the  sole  assertor  of  its  an- 
cient dignities.  To  the  door  of  the  Cleikum  Inn  the 
Captain  addressed  himself,  as  one  too  much  accustomed 
to  war  to  fear  a  rough  reception  ;  although  at  the  very 
first  aspect  of  Meg,  who  presented  her  person  at  the  half- 
opened  door,  his  military  experience  taught  him  that  his 
entrance  into  the  place  would,  in  all  probability,  be  dis- 
puted. 

"  Is  Mr.  Tyrrel  at  home  ?  "  was  the  question  ;  and  the 
answer  was  conveyed  by  the  counter-interrogation,  "  Wha 
may  ye  be  that  speers  ?  " 

As  the  most  polite  reply  to  this  question,  and  an  indul- 
gence, at  the  same  time,  of  his  own  taciturn  disposition, 
the  Captain  presented  to  Luckie  Dods  the  fifth  part  of  an 
ordinary  playing  card,  much  grimed  with  snuff,  which 
bore  on  its  blank  side  his  name  and  quality.  But  Luckie 
Dods  rejected  the  information  thus  tendered,  with  con- 
temptuous scorn. 

"  Xane  of  your  deil's  play-books  for  me,"  said  she  ; 
"  it's  an  ill  world  since  sic  prick-my-dainty  doings  came  in 
fashion — It's  a  poor  tongue  that  canna  tell  its  ain  name, 
and  I'll  hae  nane  of  your  scarts  upon  pasteboard." 

"  I  am  Captain  MacTurk,  of  the  regiment,"  said 

the  Captain,  disdaining  farther  answer. 

"  MacTurk  ?  "  repeated  Meg,  with  an  emphasis,  which 
induced  the  owner  of  the  name  to  reply,  "  Yes,  honest 
woman — MacTurk — Hector  MacTurk — have  you  any 
objections  to  my  name,  good  wife  ?  " 

"  Nae  objections  have  I,"  answered  Meg ;  "  it's  e'en  an 


186  AVAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

excellent  name  for  a  heathen. — But,  Captain  Mac-Turk, 
since  sae  it  be  that  ye  are  a  captain,  ye  may  e'en  face 
about  and  march  your  ways  hame  again,  to  the  tune  of 
Dumbarton  drums  ;  for  ye  are  ganging  to  have  nae 
speech  of  Maister  Tirl,  or  ony  lodger  of  mine." 

"  And  wherefore  not  ?  "  demanded  the  veteran  ;  "  and 
is  this  of  your  own  foolish  head,  honest  woman,  or  has 
your  lodger  left  such  orders  !  " 

tk  Maybe  he  has  and  maybe  no,"  answered  Meg,  stur- 
dily ;  "  and  I  ken  nae  mair  right  that  ye  suld  ca'  me  hon- 
est woman,  than  I  have  to  ca'  you  honest  man,  whilk  is 
as  far  frae  my  thoughts  as  it  wad  be  from  heaven's 
truth." 

"  The  woman  is  deleerit !  "  said  Captain  MacTurk  ; 
"  but  coom,  coom — a  gentleman  is  not  to  be  misused  in 
this  way  when  he  comes  on  a  gentleman's  business ;  so 
make  you  a  bit  room  on  the  doorstane,  that  I  may  pass 
by  you,  or  I  will  make  room  for  myself,  by  Cot,  to  your 
small  pleasure." 

And  so  saying,  he  assumed  the  air  of  a  man  who  was 
about  to  make  good  his  passage.  But  Meg,  without 
deigning  farther  reply,  flourished  around  her  head  the 
hearth-broom,  which  she  had  been  employing  to  its  more 
legitimate  purpose,  when  disturbed  in  her  housewifery  by 
Captain  MacTurk. 

"  I  ken  your  errand  weel  eneugh,  Captain — and  I  ken 
yersell.  Ye  are  ane  of  the  folk  that  gang  about  yonder 
setting  folks  by  the  lugs,  as  callants  set  their  collies  to 
fight.  But  ye  sail  come  to  nae  lodger  o'  mine,  let  a-be 
Maister  Tirl,  wi'  ony  sic  ungodly  errand  ;  for  I  am  ane 
that  will  keep  God's  peace  and  the  King's  within  my 
dwelling." 

So  saying,  and  in  explicit  token  of  her  peaceable  in- 
tentions, she  again  flourished  her  broom. 


ST.  ronan's  well.  187 

The  veteran  instinctively  threw  himself  under  Saint 
George's  guard,  and  drew  two  paces  back,  exclaiming, 
"  That  the  woman  was  either  mad,  or  as  drunk  as  whisky 
could  make  her  ;  "  an  alternative  which  afforded  Meg  so 
little  satisfaction,  that  she  fairly  rushed  on  her  retiring 
adversary,  and  began  to  use  her  weapon  to  fell  purpose. 

"  Me  drunk,  ye  scandalous  blackguard!"  (a  blow  with 
the  broom  interposed  as  parenthesis,)  "  me,  that  am  fast- 
ing from  all  but  sin  and  bohea  !  "  (another  whack.) 

The  Captain,  swearing,  exclaiming,  and  parrying, 
caught  the  blows  as  they  fell,  showing  much  dexterity  in 
single  stick.  The  people  began  to  gather ;  and  how  long 
his  gallantry  might  have  maintained  itself  against  the 
spirit  of  self-defence  and  revenge,  must  be  left  uncertain, 
for  the  arrival  of  Tyrrel,  returned  from  a  short  walk,  put 
a  period  to  the  contest. 

Meg,  who  had  a  great  respect  for  her  guest,  began  to 
feel  ashamed  of  her  own  violence,  and  slunk  into  the 
house ;  observing,  however,  that  she  trewed  she  had 
made  her  hearth-broom  and  the  auld  heathen's  pow  right 
weel  acquainted.  The  tranquillity  which  ensued  upon 
her  departure,  gave  Tyrrel  an  opportunity  to  ask  the 
Captain,  whom  he  at  length  recognized,  the  meaning  of 
this  singular  affray,  and  whether  the  visit  was  intended 
for  him  ;  to  which  the  veteran  replied,  very  discomposed- 
ly, that  "  he  should  have  known  that  long  enough  ago,  if 
he  had  had  decent  people  to  open  his  door,  and  answer  a 
civil  question,  instead  of  a  flyting  madwoman,  who  was 
worse  than  an  eagle,"  he  said,  "  or  a  mastiff-bitch,  or  a 
she-bear,  or  any  other  female  beast  in  the  creation." 

Half  suspecting  his  errand,  and  desirous  to  avoid  un- 
necessary notoriety,  Tyrrel,  as  he  showed  the  Captain  to 
the  parlour,  which  he   called  his  own.  entreated  him  to 


188  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

excuse  the  rudeness  of  his  landlady,  and  to  pass  from  the 
topic  to  that  which  had  procured  him  the  honour  of  this 
visit. 

"  And  you  are  right,  my  good  Master  Tyrrel,"  said  the 
Captain,  pulling  down  the  sleeves  of  his  coat,  adjusting 
his  handkerchief  and  breast-ruffle,  and  endeavouring  to 
recover  the  composure  of  manner  becoming  his  mission, 
but  still  adverting  indignantly  to  the  usage  he  had  re- 
ceived— "  By ,  if  she  had  but  been  a  man,  if  it  were 

the  King  himself — However,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  I  am  come  on 
a  civil  errand — and  very  civilly  I  have  been  treated — the 
auld  bitch  should  be  set  in  the  stocks,  and  be  tamned  ! — 

My   friend,    Sir   Bingo — By ,  I   shall  never  forget 

that  woman's  insolence — if  there  be  a  constable  or  a  cat- 
o'-nine-tails  within  ten  miles  " 

"  I  perceive,  Captain,"  said  Tyrrel,  "  that  you  are  too 
much  disturbed  at  this  moment  to  enter  upon  the  busi- 
ness which  has  brought  you  here — if  you  will  step  into 
my  bedroom,  and  make  use  of  some  cold  water  and  a 
towel,  it  will  give  you  the  time  to  compose  yourself  a 
little." 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,  Mr.  Tyrrel,"  answered  the 
Captain,  snappishly  ;  "  I  do  not  want  to  be  composed  at 
all,  and  I  do  not  want  to  stay  in  this  house  a  minute 
longer  than  to  do  my  errand  to  you  on  my  friend's  be- 
half— And  as  for  this  tamned  woman,  Dods  " 

"You  will  in  that  case  forgive  my  interrupting  you, 
Captain  MacTurk,  as  I  presume  your  errand  to  me  can 
have  no  reference  to  this  strange  quarrel  with  my  land- 
lady, with  which  I  have  nothing  to" — 

"  And  if  I  thought  that  it  had,  sir,"  said  the  Captain, 
interrupting  Tyrrel  in  his  turn,  "  you  should  have  given 
me  satisfaction  before  you  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  older 


ST.  ronan's  well.  189 

— Oh,  I  would  give  five  pounds  to   the  pretty  fellow  that 
would  say,  Captain  MacTurk,  the  woman  did  right ! " 

"  I  certainly  will  not  be  that  person  you  wish  for,  Cap- 
tain, replied  Tyrrel,  "  because  I  really  do  not  know  who 
was  in  the  right  or  wrong ;  but  I  am  certainly  sorry  that 
you  should  have  met  with  ill  usage,  when  your  purpose 
was  to  visit  me." 

"  Well,  sir,  if  you  are  concerned,"  said  the  man  of 
peace,  snappishly,  "  so  am  I,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it. — 
And  touching  my  errand  to  you — you  cannot  have  for- 
gotten that  you  treated  my  friend,  Sir  Bingo  Binks,  with 
singular  incivility  ?  " 

"  I  recollect  nothing  of  the  kind,  Captain,"  replied 
Tyrrel.  "  I  remember  that  the  gentleman,  so  called, 
took  some  uncivil  liberties  in  laying  foolish  bets  concern- 
ing me,  and  that  I  treated  him,  from  respect  to  the  rest, 
of  the  company,  and  the  ladies  in  particular,  with  a  great 
degree  of  moderation  and  forbearance." 

"  And  you  must  have  very  fine  ideas  of  forbearance," 
replied  the  Captain,  "  when  you  took  my  good  friend  by 
the  collar  of  the  coat,  and  lifted  him  out  of  your  way  as 
if  he  had  been  a  puppy  dog!  My  good  Mr.  Tyrrel,  I 
can  assure  you  he  does  not  think  that  you  have  forborne 
him  at  all,  and  he  has  no  purpose  to  forbear  you ;  and  I 
must  either  carry  back  a  sufficient  apology,  or  you  must 
meet  in  a  quiet  way,  with  a  good  friend  on  each  side. — 
And  this  was  the  errand  I  came  on,  when  this  tamned 
woman,  with  the  hearth-broom,  who  is  an  enemy  to  all 
quiet  and  peaceable  proceedings" 

"  We  will  forget  Mrs.  Dods  for  the  present,  if  you 
please,  Captain  MacTurk,"  said  Tyrrel — "and,  to  speak 
to  the  present  subject,  you  will  permit  me  to  say,  that  I 
think  this   summons  comes  a  little  of  the  latest.     You 


190  W.VVERLEY    NOVELS. 

know  best  as  a  military  man,  but  I  bave  always  under- 
stood that  such  differences  are  usually  settled  immedi- 
ately after  tbey  occur — not  that  I  intend  to  baulk.  Sir 
Bingo's  inclinations  upon  tbe  score  of  delay,  or  any 
other  account." 

"  I  dare  say  you  will  not — I  dare  say  you  will  not,  Mr. 
Tyrrel,"  answered  the  Captain — "  I  am  free  to  think  that 
you  know  better  what  belongs  to  a  gentleman. — And  as 
to  time — look  you,  my  good  sir,  there  are  different  sorts 
of  people  in  this  world,  as  there  are  different  sorts  of 
fire-arms.  There  are  your  hair-triggered  rifles,  that  go 
off"  just  at  the  right  moment,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  and  that,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  is  your  true  man  of  honour  ; 
— and  there  is  a  sort  of  person  that  takes  a  thing  up  too 
soon,  and  sometimes  backs  out  of  it,  like  your  rubbishy 
Birmingham  pieces,  that  will  at  one  time  go  off  at  half- 
cock,  and  at  another  time  burn  priming  without  going  off" 
at  all ; — then  again  there  are  pieces  that  hang  fire — or  I 
should  rather  say,  that  are  like  the  matchlocks  which  the 
black  fellows  use  in  the  East  Indies — there  must  be 
some  blowing,  of  the  match,  and  so  forth,  which  occa- 
sions delay,  but  the  piece  carries  true  enough  after 
all." 

"  And  your  friend  Sir  Bingo's  valour  is  of  this  last 
kind,  Captain — I  presume  that  is  the  inference.  I  should 
have  thought  it  more  like  a  boy's  cannon,  which  is  fired 
by  means  of  a  train,  and  is  but  a  pop-gun  after  all." 

"  I  cannot  allow  of  such  comparisons,  sir,"  said  the 
Captain ;  "  you  will  understand  that  I  come  here  as  Sir 
Bingo's  friend,  and  a  reflection  on  him  will  be  an  affront 
to  me." 

"  I  disclaim  all  intended  offence  to  you,  Captain — I 
have  no  wish  to  extend  the  number  of  my  adversaries, 


ST.  ronan's  well.  191 

or  to  add  to  them  the  name  of  a  gallant  officer  like  your- 
self," replied  Tyrrel. 

"  You  are  too  obliging,  sir,"  said  the  Captain,  drawing 

himself  up  with  dignity.     "By ,  and  that  was  said 

very  handsomely  ! — Well,  sir,  and  shall  I  not  have  the 
pleasure  of  carrying  back  any  explanation  from  you  to 
Sir  Bingo  ? — I  assure  you  it  would  give  me  pleasure  to 
make  this  matter  handsomely  up." 

"  To  Sir  Bingo,  Captain  MacTurk,  I  have  no  apology 
to  offer — I  think  I  treated  him  more  gently  than  his 
impertinence  deserved." 

"  Och,  och  !  "  sighed  the  Captain,  with  a  strong  High- 
land intonation  ;  "  then  there  is  no  more  to  be  said,  but 
just  to  settle  time  and  place  ;  for  pistols,  I  suppose,  must 
be  the  weapons." 

"All  these  matters  are  quite  the  same  to  me,"  said 
Tyrrel ;  "  only,  in  respect  of  time,  I  should  wish  it  to  be 
as  speedy  as  possible — What  say  you  to  one,  afternoon, 
this  very  day  ? — You  may  name  the  place." 

"  At  one,  afternoon,"  replied  the  Captain,  deliberately, 
"  Sir  Bingo  will  attend  you — the  place  may  be  the  Buck- 
stane ;  for  as  the  whole  company  go  to  the  water-side 
to-day  to  eat  a  kettle  of  fish*  there  will  be  no   risk  of 

*  A  kettle  of  fish  is  a,  fete  champelre  of  a  particular  kind,  which  is 
to  other  fete  champetres  what  the  piscatory  eclogues  of  Brown  or  San- 
nazario  are  to  pastoral  poetry.  A  large  caldron  is  boiled  by  the  side 
of  a  salmon  river,  containing  a  quantity  of  water,  thickened  with 
salt  to  the  consistence  of  brine.  In  this  the  fish  is  plunged  when 
taken,  and  eaten  by  the  company  fronde  super  viridi.  This  is  ac- 
counted the  best  way  of  eating  salmon,  by  those  who  desire  to  taste 
the  fish  in  a  state  of  extreme  freshness.  Others  prefer  it  after  being 
kept  a  day  or  two,  when  the  curd  melts  into  oil,  and  the  fish  becomes 
richer  and  more  luscious.  The  more  judicious  gastronomes  eat  no 
Other  sauce  than  a  spoonful  of  the  water  in  which  the  salmon  is 
boiled,  together  with  a  little  pepper  and  vinegar. 


192  "WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

interruption. — And  whom  shall  I  speak  to,  my  good 
friend,  on  your  side  of  the  quarrel  ?  " 

"  Really,  Captain,"  replied  Tyrrel,  "  that  is  a  puzzling 
question — I  have  no  friend  here — I  suppose  you  could 
hardly  act  for  both  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  totally,  absolutely,  and  altogether  out  of 
the  question,  my  good  friend,"  replied  MacTurk.  "  But 
if  you  will  trust  to  me,  I  will  bring  up  a  friend  on  your 
part  from  the  Well,  who,  though  you  have  hardly  seen 
him  before,  will  settle  matters  for  you  as  well  as  if  you 
had  been  intimate  for  twenty  years — and  I  will  bring  up 
the  Doctor,  too,  if  I  can  get  him  unloosed  from  the  petti- 
coat of  that  fat  widow  Blower,  that  he  has  strung  him- 
self upon." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  do  every  thing  with  perfect 
accuracy,  Captain.  At  one  o'clock,  then,  we  meet  at  the 
Buck-stane — Stay,  permit  me  to  see  you  to  the  door." 

"  By ,  and  it  is  not  altogether  so  unnecessary," 

said  the  Captain ;  "  for  the  tamned  woman  with  the 
besom  might  have  some  advantage  in  that  long  dark  pas- 
sage, knowing  the  ground  better  than  I  do — tamn  her,  I 
will  have  amends  on  her,  if  there  be  whipping-post,  or 
ducking-stool,  or  a  pair  of  stocks  in  the  parish  ! "  And 
so  saying,  the  Captain  trudged  off,  his  spirits  ever  and 
anon  agitated  by  recollection  of  the  causeless  aggression 
of  Meg  Dods,  and  again  composed  to  a  state  of  happy 
serenity  by  the  recollection  of  the  agreeable  arrangement 
which  he  had  made  between  Mr.  Tyrrel  and  his  friend 
Sir  Bingo  Binks. 

We  have  heard  of  men  of  undoubted  benevolence  of 
character  and  disposition,  whose  principal  delight  was  to 
see  a  miserable  criminal,  degraded  alike  by  his  previous 
crimes,  and  the  sentence  which  he  had  incurred,  conclude 


ST.  ronan's  well.  193 

a  vicious  and  wretched  life,  by  an  ignominious  and  pain- 
ful death.  It  was  some  such  inconsistency  of  character 
which  induced  honest  Captain  MacTurk,  who  had  really 
been  a  meritorious  officer,  and  was  a  good-natured,  hon- 
ourable, and  well-intentioned  man,  to  place  his  chief 
delight  in  setting  his  friends  by  the  ears,  and  then  acting 
as  umpire  in  the  dangerous  rencontres,  which,  according 
to  his  code  of  honour,  were  absolutely  necessaxw  to  re- 
store peace  and  cordiality.  "We  leave  the  explanation  of 
such  anomalies  to  the  labours  of  craniologists,  for  they 
seem  to  defy  all  the  researches  of  the  Ethic  philosopher. 


VOL.   XXXIII.  13 


194  WAVEKLEY    NOVELS. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 

Evans. I  pray  you  now,  good  Master  Slender's  serving-man,  and  friend 

Simple  by  your  name,  which  way  have  you  looked  for  .Master  Caius? 

Slender.—  Marry,  Sir,  the  City-ward,  the  Park-ward,  every  way;  Old  Windsor 
way,  and  every  way. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Sir  Bingo  Binks  received  the  Captain's  communi- 
cation with  the  same  dogged  sullenness  he  had  displayed 
at  sending  the  challenge;  a  most  ungracious  humph,  as- 
cending, as  it  were,  from  the  very  bottom  of  his  stomach, 
through  the  folds  of  a  Belcher  handkerchief,  intimating 
his  acquiescence,  in  a  tone  nearly  as  gracious  as  that  with 
which  the  drowsy  traveller  acknowledges  the  intima- 
tion of  the  slip-shod  ostler,  that  it  is  on  the  stroke  of  five, 
and  the  horn  will  sound  in  a  minute.  Captain  MacTurk 
by  no  means  considered  this  ejaculation  as  expressing 
a  proper  estimate  of  his  own  trouble  and  services. 
"  Humph  !  "  he  replied ;  "  and  what  does  that  mean,  Sir 
Bingo  ?  Have  not  I  here  had  the  trouble  to  put  you  just 
into  the  neat  road  ;  and  would  you  have  been  able  to 
make  a  handsome  affair  out  of  it  at  all,  after  you  had  let 
it  hang  so  long  in  the  wind,  if  I  had  not  taken  on  myself 
to  make  it  agreeable  to  the  gentleman,  and  cooked  as 
neat  a  mess  out  of  it  as  I  have  seen  a  Frenchman  do  out 
of  a  stale  sprat  ?  " 


ST.  ronan's  well.  195 

Sir  Bingo  saw  it  was  necessary  to  mutter  some  inti- 
mation of  acquiescence  and  acknowledgment,  which,  how- 
ever inarticulate,  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  veteran  to 
whom  the  adjustment  of  a  personal  affair  of  this  kind  was 
a  labour  of  love,  and  who  now,  kindly  mindful  of  his 
promise  to  Tyrrel,  hurried  away  as  if  he  had  been  about 
the  most  charitable  action  upon  earth,  to  secure  the 
attendance  of  some  one  as  a  witness  on  the  stranger's 
part. 

Mr.  Winterblossom  was  the  person  whom  MacTurk 
had  in  his  own  mind  pitched  upon  as  the  fittest  person  to 
perform  this  act  of  benevolence  and  he  lost  no  time  in 
communicating  his  wish  to  that  worthy  gentleman.  But 
Mr.  Winterblossom,  though  a  man  of  the  world,  and  well 
enough  acquainted  with  such  matters,  was  by  no  means 
so  passionately  addicted  to  them  as  was  the  man  of 
peace,  Captain  Hector  MacTurk.  As  a  bon  vivant,  he 
hated  trouble  of  any  kind,  and  the  shrewd  selfishness  of 
his  disposition  enabled  him  to  foresee,  that  a  good  deal 
mio-ht  accrue  to  all  concerned  in  the  course  of  this  busi- 
ness.  He,  therefore,  coolly  replied,  that  he  knew  nothing 
of  Mr.  Tyrrel — not  even  whether  he  was  a  gentleman  or 
not ;  and  besides,  he  had  received  no  regular  application 
in  his  behalf — he  did  not,  therefore,  feel  himself  at  all 
inclined  to  go  to  the  field  as  his  second.  This  refusal 
drove  the  poor  Captain  to  despair.  He  conjured  his 
friend  to  be  more  public-spirited,  and  entreated  him  to 
consider  the  reputation  of  the  Well,  which  was  to  them 
as  a  common  country,  and  the  honour  of  the  company  to 
which  they  both  belonged,  and  of  which  Mr.  Winter- 
blossom was  in  a  manner  the  proper  representative,  as 
being,  with  consent  of  all,  the  perpetual  president.  He 
reminded    him    how    many    quarrels    had    been    nightly 


196  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

undertaken  and  departed  from  on  the  ensuing  morning, 
without  any  suitable  consequences — said,  "  that  people 
began  to  talk  of  the  place  oddly ;  and  that,  for  his  own 
part,  he  found  his  own  honour  so  nearly  touched,  that  he 
had  begun  to  think  he  himself  would  be  obliged  to  bring 
somebody  or  other  to  account  for  the  general  credit  of 
the  Well ;  and  now,  just  when  the  most  beautiful  occasion 
had  arisen  to  put  every  thing  on  a  handsome  footing,  it 
was  bard — it  was  cruel — it  was  most  unjustifiable — in 
Mr.  Winterblossom,  to  decline  so  simple  a  matter  as  was 
requested  of  him." 

Dry  and  taciturn  as  the  Captain  was  on  all  ordinary 
occasions,  he  proved,  on  the  present,  eloquent  and  almost 
pathetic  ;  for  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes  when  he  re- 
counted the  various  quarrels  which  had  become  addled, 
notwithstanding  his  best  endeavours  to  hatch  them  into 
an  honourable  meeting  ;  and  here  was  one,  at  length, 
just  chipping  the  shell,  like  to  be  smothered  for  want  of 
the  most  ordinary  concession  on  the  part  of  Winter- 
blossom.  In  short,  that  gentleman  could  not  hold  out 
any  longer.  "  It  was,"  he  said,  "  a  very  foolish  business, 
he  thought  ;  but  to  oblige  Sir  Bingo  and  Captain  Mac- 
Turk,  he  had  no  objection  to  walk  with  them  about  noon 
as  far  as  the  Buck-stane,  although  he  must  observe  the 
day  was  hazy,  and  he  had  felt  a  prophetic  twinge  or  two 
which  looked  like  a  visit  of  his  old  acquaintance  podagra." 

"  Never  mind  that,  my  excellent  friend,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, "  a  sup  out  of  Sir  Bingo's  flask  is  like  enough  to  put 
that  to  rights ;  and  by  my  soul,  it  is  not  the  thing  he  is 
like  to  leave  behind  him  on  this  sort  of  occasion,  unless  I 
be  far  mistaken  in  my  man." 

"  But,"  said  Winterblossom,  "  although  I  comply  with 
your  wishes  thus  far,  Captain  MacTurk,  I  by  no  means 


ST.  ronan's  avell.  197 

undertake  for  certain  to  back  this  same  Master  Tyrrel, 
of  whom  I  know  nothing  at  all,  but  only  agree  to  go  to 
the  place  in  hopes  of  preventing  mischief." 

"  Never  fash  your  beard  about  that,  Mr.  Winter- 
blossom,"  replied  the  Captain  ;  "  for  a  little  mischief,  as 
you  call  it,  is  become  a  thing  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
credit  of  the  place ;  and  I  am  sure,  whatever  be  the 
consequences,  they  cannot  in  the  present  instance  be 
very  fatal  to  anybody ;  for  here  is  a  young  fellow  that, 
if  he  should  have  a  misfortune,  nobody  will  miss,  for 
nobody  knows  him;  then  there  is  Sir  Bingo,  whom 
everybody  knows  so  well,  that  they  will  miss  him  all  the 
less." 

"  And  there  will  be  Lady  Bingo,  a  wealthy  and  hand- 
some young  widow,"  said  Winterblossom,  throwing  his 
hat  upon  his  head  with  the  grace  and  pretension  of 
former  days,  and  sighing  to  see,  as  he  looked  in  the 
mirror,  how  much  time,  that  had  whitened  his  hair, 
rounded  his  stomach,  wrinkled  his  brow,  and  bent  down 
his  shoulders,  had  disqualified  him,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"  for  entering  for  such  a  plate." 

Secure  of  Winterblossom,  the  Captain's  next  anxiety 
was  to  obtain  the  presence  of  Dr.  Quackleben,  who, 
although  he  wrote  himself  M.  D.,  did  not  by  any  means 
decline  practice  as  a  surgeon  when  any  job  offered  for 
which  he  was  likely  to  be  well  paid,  as  was  warranted  in 
the  present  instance,  the  wealthy  Baronet  being  a  party 
principally  concerned.  The  Doctor,  therefore,  like  the 
eagle  scenting  the  carnage,  seized,  at  the  first  word,  the 
hu"-e  volume  of  morocco  leather  which  formed  his  case 
of  portable  instruments,  and  uncoiled  before  the  Captain, 
with  ostentatious  display,  its  formidable  and  glittering 
contents,  upon  which  he    began   to    lecture  as   upon  a 


198  WAVERLET    NOVELS. 

copious  and  interesting  text,  until  the  man  of  war  thought 
it  necessary  to  give  him  a  word  of  caution. 

"  Och,"  says  he,  "  I  do  pray  you,  Doctor,  to  carry  that 
packet  of  yours  under  the  breast  of  your  coat,  or  in  your 
pocket,  or  somewhere  out  of  sight,  and  by  no  means  to 
produce  or  open  it  before  the  parties.  For  although 
scalpels,  and  tourniquets,  and  pincers,  and  the  like,  are 
very  ingenious  implements,  and  pretty  to  behold,  and  are 
also  useful  when  time  and  occasion  call  for  them,  yet  I 
have  known  the  sight  of  them  take  away  a  man's  fighting 
stomach,  and  so  lose  their  owner  a  job,  Dr.  Quackleben." 

"  By  my  faith,  Captain  MacTurk,"  said  the  Doctor, 
"  you  speak  as  if  you  were  graduated  ! — I  have  known 
these  treacherous  articles  play  their  master  many  a  cursed 
trick.  The  very  sight  of  my  forceps,  without  the  least 
effort  on  my  part,  once  cured  an  inveterate  toothach  of 
three  days'  duration,  prevented  the  extraction  of  a  carious 
molendinar,  which  it  was  the  very  end  of  their  formation 
to  achieve,  and  sent  me  home  minus  a  guinea. — But 
hand  me  that  great-coat,  Captain,  and  we  will  place  the 
instruments  in  ambuscade,  until  they  are  called  into 
action  in  due  time.  I  should  think  something  will  happen 
— Sir  Biniro  is  a  sure  shot  at  a  moor-cock." 

"  Cannot  say,"  replied  MacTurk  ;  "  I  have  known  the 
pistol  shake  many  a  hand  that  held  the  fowling-piece  fast 
enough.  Yonder  Tyrrel  looks  like  a  teevilish  cool 
customer — I  watched  him  the  whole  time  I  was  deliver- 
ing my  errand,  and  I  can  promise  you  he  is  mettle  to  the 
back-bone." 

"  Well — I  will  have  my  bandages  ready  secundum 
artem,"  replied  the  man  of  medicine.  "  We  must  guard 
against  hasmorrhage — Sir  Bingo  is  a  plethoric  subject. — 
One  o'clock,  you  say — at  the  Buck-stane—  T  will  be 
punctual." 


ST.  roxan's  well.  199 

"  Will  you  not  walk  with  us  ? "  said  Captain  Mac- 
Turk,  who  seemed  willing  to  keep  his  whole  convoy- 
together  on  this  occasion,  lest,  peradventure,  any  of  them 
had  fled  from  under  his  patronage. 

"  No,"  replied  the  Doctor,  "  I  must  first  make  an 
apology  to  worthy  Mrs.  Blower,  for  I  had  promised  her 
my  arm  down  to  the  river-side,  where  they  are  all  to  eat 
a  kettle  of  fish." 

"  By  Cot,  and  I  hope  we  shall  make  them  a  prettier 
kettle  of  fish  than  was  ever  seen  at  St.  Ronan's,"  said  the 
Captain,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  Don't  say  we,  Captain,"  replied  the  cautious  Doctor ; 
"  I  for  one  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  meeting — wash 
my  hands  of  it.  No,  no,  I  cannot  afford  to  be  clapt  up 
as  accessory. — You  ask  me  to  meet  you  at  the  Buck- 
stane — no  purpose  assigned — I  am  willing  to  oblige  my 
worthy  friend,  Captain  MacTurk — walk  that  way,  think- 
ing of  nothing  particular — hear  the  report  of  pistols — 
hasten  to  the  spot — fortunately  just  in  time  to  prevent 
the  most  fatal  consequences — chance  most  opportunely  to 
have  my  case  of  instruments  with  me,  indeed,  generally 
walk  with  them  about  me — nunquam  non  paratus — then 
give  my  professional  definition  of  the  wound  and  state 
of  the  patient.  That  is  the  way  to  give  evidence,  Cap- 
tain, before  sheriffs,  coroners,  and  such  sort  of  folks — 
never  commit  one's  self — it  is  a  rule  of  our  profession." 

"  Well,  well,  Doctor,"  answered  the  Captain,  "  you 
know  your  own  ways  best ;  and  so  you  are  but  there  to 
give  a  chance  of  help  in  case  of  accident,  all  the  laws  of 
honour  will  be  fully  complied  with.  But  it  would  be  a 
foul  reflection  upon  me,  as  a  man  of  honour,  if  I  did  not 
take  care  that  there  should  be  somebody  to  come  in 
thirdsman  between  Death  and  my  principal." 


200  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

At  the  awful  hour  of  one,  afternoon,  there  arrived 
upon  the  appointed  spot  Captain  MacTurk,  leading  to 
the  field  the  valorous  Sir  Bingo,  not  exactly  straining 
like  a  greyhound  in  the  slips,  hut  rather  looking  moody 
like  a  butcher's  bull-dog,  which  knows  he  must  fight  since 
his  master  bids  him.  Yet  the  Baronet  showed  no  out- 
ward flinching  or  abatement  of  courage,  excepting  that 
the  tune  of  Jenny  Sutton,  which  he  had  whistled  without 
intermission  since  he  left  the  Hotel,  had,  during  the  last 
half  mile  of  their  walk,  sunk  into  silence  ;  although,  to 
look  at  the  muscles  of  the  mouth,  projection  of  the  lip, 
and  vacancy  of  the  eye,  it  seemed  as  if  the  notes  were 
still  passing  through  his  mind,  and  that  he  whistled 
Jenny  Sutton  in  his  imagination.  Mr.  Winterblossom 
came  two  minutes  after  this  happy  pair,  and  the  Doctor 
was  equally  punctual. 

"  Upon  my  soul,"  said  the  former,  "  this  is  a  mighty 
silly  affair,  Sir  Bingo,  and  might,  I  think,  be  easily  taken 
up,  at  less  risk  to  all  parties  than  a  meeting  of  this  kind. 
You  should  recollect,  Sir  Bingo,  that  you  have  much 
depending  on  your  life — you  are  a  married  man,  Sir 
Bingo." 

Sir  Bingo  turned  the  quid  in  his  mouth,  and  squirted 
out  the  juice  in  a  most  coachman-like  manner. 

"  Mr.  "Winterblossom,"  said  the  Captain,  "  Sir  Bingo 
has  in  this  matter  put  himself  in  my  hands,  and  unless 
you  think  yourself  more  able  to  direct  his  course  than  I 
am,  I  must  frankly  tell  you,  that  I  will  be  disobliged  by 
your  interference.  You  may  speak  to  your  own  friend 
as  much  you  please  ;  and  if  you  find  yourself  authorized 
to  make  any  proposal,  I  shall  be  desirous  to  lend  an  ear 
to  it  on  the  part  of  my  worthy  principal,  Sir  Bingo.  But 
I  will  be  plain  with  you,  that  I  do  not  greatly  approve 


ST.  ronan's  well.  201 

of  settlements  upon  the  field,  though  I  hope  I  am  a  quiet 
and  peaceable  man  ;  yet  here  is  our  honour  to  be  looked 
after  in  the  first  place  ;  and  moreover,  I  must  insist  that 
every  proposal  for  accommodation  shall  originate  with 
your  party  or  yourself." 

"My  party  ?  "  answered  Winterblossom  ;  "  why  really, 
though  I  came  hither  at  your  request,  Captain  MacTurk, 
yet  I  must  see  more  of  the  matter,  ere  I  can  fairly  pro- 
nounce myself  second  to  a  man  I  never  saw  but  once." 

"  And,  perhaps,  may  never  see  again,"  said  the  Doctor, 
looking  at  his  watch  ;  "  for  it  is  ten  minutes  past  the 
hour,  and  here  is  no  Mr.  Tyrrel." 

"  Hey !  what's  that  you  say,  Doctor  ?  "  said  the  Bar- 
onet, awakened  from  his  apathy. 

"  He  speaks  tamned  nonsense,"  said  the  Captain,  pull- 
ing out  a  huge,  old-fashioned,  turnip-shaped  implement, 
with  a  blackened  silver  dial-plate.  "  It  is  not  above 
three  minutes  after  one  by  the  true  time,  and  I  will  up- 
hold Mr.  Tyrrel  to  be  a  man  of  his  word — never  saw  a 
man  take  a  thing  more  coolly." 

"  Not  more  coolly  than  he  takes  his  walk  this  way," 
said  the  Doctor  ;  "  for  the  hour  is  as  I  tell  you — remem- 
ber, I  am  professional — have  pulses  to  count  by  the 
second  and  half-second — my  timepiece  must  go  as  true  as 
the  sun." 

"  And  I  have  mounted  guard  a  thousand  times  by  my 
watch,"  said  the  Captain  ;  "  and  I  defy  the  devil  to  say 
that  Hector  MacTurk  did  not  always  discharge  his  duty 
to  the  twentieth  part  of  the  fraction  of  a  second — it  was 
my  great  grandmother,  Lady  Killbracklin's,  and  I  will 
maintain  its  reputation  against  any  timepiece  that  ever 
went  upon  wheel-." 

"  Well   then,  look   at  your  own  watch,  Captain,"  said 


202  WAVEBLEY    NOVELS. 

Winterblossora,  "for  time  stands  still  with  no  man,  and 
while  we  speak  (he  hour  advances.  On  my  word,  I  think 
this  Mr.  Tyrrel  intends  to  humbug  us." 

"  Hey !  what's  that  you  say  ?  "  said  Sir  Bingo,  once 
more  starting  from  his  sullen  reverie. 

"  I  shall  not  look  at  my  watch  upon  no  such  matter," 
said  the  Captain ;  "  nor  will  I  any  way  be  disposed  to 
doubt  your  friend's  honour,  Mr.  Winterblossom." 

"My  friend  ?  "  said  Mr.  Winterblossom  ;  "  I  must  tell 
you  once  more,  Captain,  that  this  Mr.  Tyrrel  is  no  friend 
of  mine — none  in  the  world.  He  is  your  friend,  Captain 
MacTurk  ;  and  I  own,  if  he  keeps  us  waiting  much 
longer  on  this  occasion,  I  will  be  apt  to  consider  his 
friendship  as  of  very  little  value." 

"  And  how  dare  you  then  say  that  the  man  is  my 
friend  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  knitting  his  brows  in  a  most 
formidable  manner. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  Captain,"  answered  Winterblossom, 
coolly,  if  not  contemptuously — "  keep  all  that  for  silly 
boys  ;  I  have  lived  in  the  world  too  long  either  to  pro- 
voke quarrels,  or  to  care  about  them.  So,  reserve  your 
fire  ;  it  is  all  thrown  away  on  such  an  old  cock  as  I  am. 
But  I  really  wish  we  knew  whether  this  fellow  means  to 
come — twenty  minutes  past  the  hour — I  think  it  is  odds 
that  you  are  bilked,  Sir  Bingo  ?  " 

"  Bilked  !  hey  !  "  cried  Sir  Bingo ;  "  by  Gad,  I  always 
thought  so — I  wagered  with  Mowbray  he  was  a  raff — I 
am  had,  by  Gad.  I'll  wait  no  longer  than  the  half  hour, 
by  Gad,  were  he  a  field-marshal." 

"  You  will  be  directed  in  that  matter  by  your  friend,  if 
you  please,  Sir  Bingo,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  D — n  me  if  I  will,"  returned  the  Baronet — "  Friend? 
a  pretty  friend,  to  bring  me  out  here  on  such  a  fool's 


st.  ronan's  avell.  203 

errand  !  I  knew  the  fellow  was  a  raff — but  I  never 
thought  you,  with  all  your  chaff  about  honour,  such  a 
(J — d  spoon  as  to  bring  a  message  from  a  fellow  who  has 
fled  the  pit !  " 

"  If  you  regret  so  much  having  come  here  to  no  pur- 
pose," said  the  Captain,  in  a  very  lofty  tone,  "  and  if  you 
think  I  have  used  you  like  a  spoon,  as  you  say,  I  will 
have  no  objection  in  life  to  take  Mr.  Tyrrel's  place,  and 
serve  your  occasion,  my  boy  !  " 

"  By !  and  if  you  like  it,  you  may  fire  away,  and 

welcome,"  said  Sir  Bingo ;  "  and  I'll  spin  a  crown  for 
first  shot,  for  I  do  not  understand  being  brought  here  for 
nothing,  d — n  me  !  " 

"And  there  was  never  man  alive  so  ready  as  I  am  to 
give  you  something  to  stay  your  stomach,"  said  the  irri- 
table Highlander. 

u  Oh  fie,  gentlemen  !  fie,  fie,  fie  !  "  exclaimed  the 
pacific  Mr.  Winterblossom — "  For  shame,  Captain — Out 
upon  you,  Sir  Bingo,  are  you  mad? — what,  principal  and 
second  ? — the  like  was  never  heard  of — never." 

The  parties  were  in  some  degree  recalled  to  their  more 
cool  recollections  by  this  expostulation,  yet  continued  a 
short  quarter-deck  walk  to  and  fro,  upon  parallel  lines, 
looking  at  each  other  sullenly  as  they  passed,  and  brist- 
ling like  two  dogs  who  have  a  mind  to  quarrel,  yet  hesi- 
tate to  commence  hostilities.  During  this  promenade, 
also,  the  perpendicular  and  erect  carriage  of  the  veteran, 
rising  on  his  toes  at  every  step,  formed  a  whimsical  con- 
trast with  the  heavy  loutish  shuffle  of  the  bulky  Baronet, 
who  had,  by  dint  of  practice,  very  nearly  attained  that 
most  enviable  of  all  carriages,  the  gait  of  a  shambling 
Yorkshire  ostler.  His  coarse  spirit  was  now  thoroughly 
kindled,  and  like  iron,  or  any  other  baser  metal,  which  is 


204  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

slow  in  receiving  heat,  it  retained  long  the  smouldering 
and  angry  spirit  of  resentment  that  had  originally  brought 
him  to  the  place,  and  now  rendered  him  willing  to  wreak 
his  uncomfortable  feelings  upon  the  nearest  object  which 
occurred,  since  the  first  purpose  of  his  coming  thither 
was  frustrated.  In  his  own  phrase  his  pluck  was  up,  and 
finding  himself  in  a  fighting  humour,  he  thought  it  a  pity, 
like  Bob  Acres,  that  so  much  good  courage  should  be 
thrown  away.  As,  however,  that  courage  after  all  con- 
sisted chiefly  in  ill  humour  ;  and  as,  in  the  demeanour  of 
the  Captain,  he  read  nothing  deferential  or  deprecatory 
of  his  wrath,  he  began  to  listen  with  more  attention  to 
the  arguments  of  Mr.  Winterblossom,  who  entreated 
them  not  to  sully,  by  private  quarrel,  the  honour  they 
had  that  day  so  happily  acquired  without  either  blood 
or  risk. 

"  It  was  now,"  he  said,  "  three  quarters  of  an  hour  past 
the  time  appointed  for  this  person,  who  calls  himself 
Tyrrel,  to  meet  Sir  Bingo  Binks.  Now,  instead  of  stand- 
ing squabbling  here,  which  serves  no  purpose,  I  propose 
we  should  reduce  to  writing  the  circumstances  which  at- 
tend  this  affair  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  company  at  the 
"Well,  and  that  the  memorandum  shall  be  regularly  attest- 
ed by  our  subscriptions ;  after  which,  I  shall  farther 
humbly  propose  that  it  be  subjected  to  the  revision  of 
the  Committee  of  Management." 

"  I  object  to  any  revision  of  a  statement  to  which  my 
name  shall  be  appended,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Right — very  true,  Captain,"  said  the  complaisant 
Mr.  Winterblossom;  "undoubtedly  you  know  best,  and 
your  signature  is  completely  sufficient  to  authenticate 
this  transaction — however,  as  it  is  the  most  important 
which  has  occurred  since  the  Spring  was  established,  I 


ST.    RONAX'S    WELL.  205 

propose  we  shall  all  sign  the  proces  verbal,  as  I  may  term 
it." 

"  Leave  me  out,  if  you  please,"  said  the  Doctor,  not 
much  satisfied  that  both  the  original  quarrel  and  the  by- 
battle  had  passed  over  without  any  occasion  for  the  offices 
of  a  Machaon ;  "  leave  me  out,  if  you  please ;  for  it  does 
not  become  me  to  be  ostensibly  concerned  in  any  proceed- 
ings, which  have  had  for  their  object  a  breach  of  the 
peace.  And  for  the  importance  of  waiting  here  for  an 
hour,  in  a  fine  afternoon,  it  is  my  opinion  there  was  a 
more  important  service  done  to  the  Well  of  St.  Ronan's, 
when  I,  Quentin  Quackleben,  M.  D.,  cured  Lady  Penel- 
ope Penfeather  of  her  seventh  attack  upon  the  nerves, 
attended  with  febrile  symptoms." 

"  No  disparagement  to  your  skill  at  all,  Doctor,"  said 
Mr.  Winterblossom  ;  "  but  I  conceive  the  lesson  which  this 
fellow  has  received  will  be  a  great  means  to  prevent  im- 
proper persons  from  appearing  at  the  Spring  hereafter ; 
and,  for  my  part,  I  shall  move  that  no  one  be  invited  to 
dine  at  the  table  in  future,  till  his  name  is  regularly  en- 
tered as  a  member  of  the  company,  in  the  lists  at  the 
public  room.  And  I  hope  both  Sir  Bingo  and  the  Cap- 
tain will  receive  the  thanks  of  the  company,  for  their 
spirited  conduct  in  expelling  the  intruder. — Sir  Bingo, 
will  you  allow  me  to  apply  to  your  flask — a  little  twinge 
I  feel,  owing  to  the  dampness  of  the  grass." 

Sir  Bingo,  soothed  by  the  consequence  he  had  acquired, 
readily  imparted  to  the  invalid  a  thimbleful  of  his  cordial, 
which,  we  believe,  had  been  prepared  by  some  cunning 
chemist  in  the  wilds  of  Glenlivat.  He  then  filled  a  bum- 
per, and  extended  it  towards  the  veteran,  as  an  unequiv- 
ocal symptom  of  reconciliation.  The  real  turbinacious 
flavour  no  sooner  reached  the  nose  of  the  Captain,  than 


206  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

the  beverage  was  turned  down  his  throat  with  symptoms 
of  most  unequivocal  applause.  "I  shall  have  some  hope 
of  the  young  fellows  of  this  day,"  he  said,  "  now  that  they 
begin  to  give  up  their  Duteh  and  French  distilled  waters, 
and  stick  to  genuine  Highland  ware.  By  Cot,  it  is  the 
only  liquor  fit  for  a  gentleman  to  drink  in  a  morning,  if 
he  can  have  the  good  fortune  to  come  by  it,  you  see." 

"  Or  after  dinner  either,  Captain,"  said  the  Doctor,  to 
whom  the  glass  had  passed  in  rotation ;  "  it  is  worth  all 
the  wines  in  France  for  flavour,  and  more  cordial  to  the 
system  besides." 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Captain,  "  that  wre  may  not  go 
off"  the  ground  with  any  thing  on  our  stomachs  worse  than 
the  whisky,  I  can  afford  to  say,  (as  Captain  Hector  Mac- 
Turk's  character  is  tolerably  well  established,)  that  I  am 
sorry  for  the  little  difference  that  has  occurred  betwixt 
me  and  my  worthy  friend,  Sir  Bingo,  here." 

"  And  since  you  are  so  civil,  Captain,"  said  Sir  Bingo, 
"  why,  I  am  sorry  too — only  it  would  put  the  devil  out  of 
temper  to  lose  so  fine  a  fishing  day — wind  south — fine  air 
on  the  pool — water  settled  from  the  flood — just  in  trim — ■ 
and  I  dare  say  three  pairs  of  hooks  have  passed  over  my 
cast  before  this  time." 

He  closed  this  elaborate  lamentation  with  a  libation  of 
the  same  cordial  which  he  had  imparted  to  his  compan- 
ions ;  and  they  returned  in  a  body  to  the  Hotel,  where 
the  transactions  of  the  morning  were  soon  afterwards  an- 
nounced to  the  company,  by  the  following  programme : — « 

STATEMENT. 

"  Sir  Bingo  Binks,  baronet,  having  found  himself  ag- 
grieved by  the  uncivil  behaviour  of  an  individual  calling 
himself  Francis  Tyrrel,  now  or  lately  a  resident  at  the 


st.  ronan's  well.  207 

Cleikum  Inn,  Aultoun  of  St.  Ronan's :  and  having  em- 
powered Captain  Hector  MacTurk  to  wait  upon  the  said 
Mr.  Tyrrel  to  demand  an  apology,  under  the  alternative 
of  personal  satisfaction,  according  to  the  laws  of  honour 
and  the  practice  of  gentlemen,  the  said  Tyrrel  volun- 
tarily engaged  to  meet  the  said  Sir  Bingo  Binks,  baronet, 
at  the  Buck-stane,  near  St.  Ronan's  Burn,  upon  this 
present  day,  being  Wednesday ■  August.  In  conse- 
quence of  which  appointment,  we,  the  undersigned,  did 
attend  at  the  place  named,  from  one  o'clock  till  two,  with- 
out seeing  or  hearing  any  thing  whatever  of  the  said 
Francis  Tyrrel,  or  any  one  in  his  behalf — which  fact  we 
make  thus  publicly  known,  that  all  men,  and  particularly 
the  distinguished  company  assembled  at  the  Fox  Hotel, 
may  be  duly  apprized  of  the  character  and  behaviour  of 
the  said  Francis  Tyrrel,  in  case  of  his  again  presuming  to 
intrude  himself  into  the  society  of  persons  of  honour. 
"  The  Fox  Inn  and  Hotel,  St.  Ronan's  Well — August 

18—. 

(Signed)  "  Bingo  Binks. 

"  Hector  MacTurk. 
"  Philip  Winterblossom." 
A  little  lower  followed  this  separate  attestation  : 
"  I,  Quentin  Quackleben,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  S.,  D.  E.,  B.  L., 
X.  Z.,  &c.  &c,  being  called  upon  to  attest  what  I  know  in 
the  said  matter,  do  hereby  verify,  that,  being  by  accident 
at  the  Buck-stane,  near  St.  Ronan's  Burn,  on  this  present 
day,  at  the  hour  of  one  afternoon,  and  chancing  to  remain 
there  for  the  space  of  nearly  an  hour,  conversing  with 
Sir  Bingo  Binks,  Captain  MacTurk,  and  Mr.  Winterblos- 
som, we  did  not,  during  that  time,  see  or  hear  any  thing 
of  or  from   the   person   calling   himself  Francis  Tyrrel, 
whose  presence  at  that  place  seemed  to  be  expected  by 


208  "WAVEKLEY    NOVELS. 

the  gentlemen  I  have  just  named."  This  affiche  was 
dated  like  the  former,  and  certified  under  the  august  hand 
of  Quentin  Quackleben,  M.  D.,  &c.  &c.  &c. 

Again,  and  prefaced  by  the  averment  that  an  improper 
person  had  been  lately  introduced  into  the  company  of 
St.  Ronan's  Well,  there  came  forth  a  legislative  enact- 
ment, on  the  part  of  the  Committee,  declaring,  "that  no 
one  shall  in  future  be  invited  to  the  dinners,  or  balls,  or 
other  entertainments  of  the  Well,  until  their  names  shall 
be  regularly  entered  in  the  books  kept  for  the  purpose  at 
the  rooms."  Lastly,  there  was  a  vote  of  thanks  to  Sir 
Bingo  Binks  and  Captain  MacTurk  for  their  spirited 
conduct,  and  the  pains  which  they  had  taken  to  exclude 
an  improper  person  from  the  company  at  St.  Ronan's 
Well. 

These  annunciations  speedily  became  the  magnet  of 
the  day.  All  idlers  crowded  to  peruse  them ;  and  it 
would  be  endless  to  notice  the  "  God  bless  me's," — the 
"  Lord  have  a  care  of  us," — the  "  Saw  you  ever  the 
like's  "  of  gossips,  any  more  than  the  "  Dear  me's  "  and 
"  Oh,  laa's  "  of  the  titupping  misses,  and  the  oaths  of  the 
pantalooned  or  buckskined  beaux.  The  character  of  Sir 
Bingo  rose  like  the  stocks  at  the  news  of  a  despatch  from 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and,  what  was  extraordinary, 
attained  some  consequence  even  in  the  estimation  of  his 
lady.  All  shook  their  heads  at  the  recollection  of  the 
unlucky  Tyrrel,  and  found  out  much  in  his  manner  and 
address  which  convinced  them  that  he  was  but  an  adven- 
turer and  swindler.  A  few,  however,  less  partial  to  the 
Committee  of  Management,  (for  whenever  there  is  an 
administration,  there  will  soon  arise  an  opposition,)  whis- 
pered among  themselves,  that,  to  give  the  fellow  his  due, 
the  man,  be  he  what  he  would,  had  only  come  among 


ST.    ROXANS    WELL. 


209 


them,  like  the  devil,  when  he  was  called  for — And  honest 
Dame  Blower  blessed  herself  when  she  heard  of  such 
bloodthirsty  doings  as  had  been  intended,  and  "  thanked 
God  that  honest  Doctor  Kickherben  had  come  to  nae 
harm  amang  a'  their  nonsense." 


VOL.  XXXIII. 


14 


210  WAVEULEY    NOVELS. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE    CONSULTATION. 

Clown. — I  hope  here  he  proofs. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

The   borough   of lies,  as  all  the   world  knows, 

about  fourteen  miles  distant  from  St.  Ronan's,  being  the 
county  town  of  that  shire,  which,  as  described  in  the 
Tourist's  Guide,  numbers  among  its  objects  of  interest, 
that  gay  and  popular  watering-place,  whose  fame,  no 
doubt,  will  be  greatly  enhanced  by  the  present  annals  of 
its  earlier  history.  As  it  is  at  present  unnecessary  to  be 
more  particular  concerning  the  scene  of  our  story,  we  will 
fill  up  the  blank  left  in  the  first  name  with  the  fictitious 
appellation  of  Marchthorn,  having  often  found  ourselves 
embarrassed  in  the  course  of  a  story,  by  the  occurrence 
of  an  ugly  hiatus,  which  we  cannot  always  at  first  sight 
fill  up,  with  the  proper  reference  to  the  rest  of  the  nar- 
rative. 

Marchthorn,  then,  was  an  old-fashioned  Scottish  town, 
the  street  of  which,  on  market-day,  showed  a  reasonable 
number  of  stout  great-coated  yeomen,  bartering  or  dealing 
for  the  various  commodities  of  their  farms ;  and  on  other 
days  of  the  week,  only  a  few  forlorn  burghers,  crawling 
about  like  half-awakened  flies,  and  watching  the  town 
steeple  till  the  happy  sound  of  twelve  strokes  from  Time's 


ST.  ronan's  well.  211 

oracle  should  tell  thein  it  was  time  to  take  their  meridian 
dram.  The  narrow  windows  of  the  shops  intimated  very 
imperfectly  the  miscellaneous  contents  of  the  interior, 
where  every  merchant,  as  the  shopkeepers  of  Marchthorn 
were  termed,  more  Scotico,  sold  every  thing  that  could  be 
thought  of.  As  for  manufactures,  there  were  none,  ex- 
cept that  of  the  careful  Town-Council,  who  were  mightily 
busied  in  preparing  the  warp  and  woof,  which,  at  the  end 
of  every  five  or  six  years,  the  town  of  Marchthorn  con- 
tributed, for  the  purpose  of  weaving  the  fourth  or  fifth 
part  of  a  member  of  Parliament. 

In  such  a  town  it  usually  happens  that  the  SherifF-clerk, 
especially  supposing  him  agent  for  several  lairds  of  the 
higher  order,  is  possessed  of  one  of  the  best-looking 
houses ;  and  such  was  that  of  Mr.  Bindloose.  None  of 
the  smartness  of  the  brick-built  and  brass-hammered 
mansion  of  a  southern  attorney  appeared  indeed  in  this 
mansion,  which  was  a  tall,  thin,  grim-looking  building,  in 
the  centre  of  the  town,  with  narrow  windows  and  project- 
ing gables,  notched  into  that  sort  of  descent,  called  crow- 
steps,  and  having  the  lower  casements  defended  by  stan- 
chions of  iron ;  for  Mr.  Bindloose,  as  frequently  happens, 
kept  a  branch  of  one  of  the  two  national  banks,  which 
had  been  lately  established  in  the  town  of  Marchthorn. 

Towards  the  door  of  this  tenement,  there  advanced 
slowly  up  the  ancient,  but  empty  streets  of  this  famous 
borough,  a  vehicle,  which,  had  it  appeared  in  Piccadilly, 
would  have  furnished  unremitted  laughter  for  a  week, 
and  conversation  for  a  twelvemonth.  It  was  a  two- 
wheeled  vehicle,  which  claimed  none  of  the  modern  ap- 
pellations of  tilbury,  tandem,  dennet,  or  the  like  ;  but 
aspired  only  to  the  humble  name  of  that  almost  forgotten 
accommodation,  a  whiskey  ;  or,  according  to  some  author- 


212  W  WERLEY    NOVELS. 

ities,  a  tim-whiskey.  Green  was,  or  had  been,  its  original 
colour,  and  it  was  placed  sturdily  and  safely  low  upon  its 
little  old-fashioned  wheels,  which  bore  much  less  than  the 
usual  proportion  to  the  size  of  the  carriage  which  they 
sustained.  It  had  a  calash  head,  which  had  been  pulled 
up,  in  consideration  either  to  the  dampness  of  the  morn- 
ing air,  or  to  the  retiring  delicacy  of  the  fair  form  which, 
shrouded  by  leathern  curtains,  tenanted  this  venerable 
specimen  of  antediluvian  coach-building. 

But,  as  this  fair  and  modest  dame  noway  aspired  to  the 
skill  of  a  charioteer,  the  management  of  a  horse,  which 
seemed  as  old  as  the  carriage  he  drew,  was  in  the  exclu- 
sive charge  of  an  old  fellow  in  a  postilion's  jacket,  whose 
gray  hairs  escaped  on  each  side  of  an  old-fashioned  velvet 
jockey-cap,  and  whose  left  shoulder  was  so  considerably 
elevated  above  his  head,  that  it  seemed  as  if,  with  little 
effort  his  neck  might  have  been  tucked  under  his  arm, 
like  that  of  a  roasted  grouse-cock.  This  gallant  equerry 
was  mounted  on  a  steed  as  old  as  that  which  toiled  be- 
twixt the  shafts  of  the  carriage,  and  which  he  guided  by 
a  leading  rein.  Goading  one  animal  with  his  single  spur, 
and  stimulating  the  other  with  his  whip,  he  effected  a  rea- 
sonable trot  upon  the  causeway,  which  only  terminated 
when  the  whiskey  stopped  at  Mr.  Bindloose's  door — an 
event  of  importance  enough  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  the 
inhabitants  of  that  and  the  neighbouring  houses.  Wheels 
were  laid  aside,  needles  left  sticking  in  the  half-finished 
seams,  and  many  a  nose,  spectacled  and  unspectacled,  was 
popped  out  of  the  adjoining  windows,  which  had  the  good 
fortune  to  command  a  view  of  Mr.  Bindloose's  front  door. 
The  faces  of  two  or  three  giggling  clerks  were  visible  at 
the  barred  casements  of  which  we  have  spoken,  much 
amused  at  the  descent  of  an  old  lady  from  this  respecta- 


ST.  ronan's  well.  213 

ble  carriage,  whose  dress  and  appearance  might  possibly 
have  been  fashionable  at  the  time  when  her  equipage  was 
new.  A  satin  cardinal,  lined  with  gray  squirrels'  skin, 
and  a  black  silk  bonnet,  trimmed  with  crape,  were  gar- 
ments which  did  not  now  excite  the  respect,  which  in 
their  fresher  days  they  had  doubtless  commanded.  But 
there  was  that  in  the  features  of  the  wearer,  which  would 
have  commanded  Mr.  Bindloose's  best  regard,  though  it 
had  appeared  in  far  worse  attire ;  for  he  beheld  the  face 
of  an  ancient  customer,  who  had  always  paid  her  law  ex- 
penses with  the  ready  penny,  and  whose  accompt  with  the 
bank  was  balanced  by  a  \ery  respectable  sum  at  her 
credit.  It  was,  indeed,  no  other  than  our  respected  friend, 
Mrs.  Dods  of  the  Cleikum  Inn,  St.  Ronan's,  Aultoun. 

Now  her  arrival  intimated  matter  of  deep  import. 
Meg  was  a  person  of  all  others  most  averse  to  leave  her 
home,  where,  in  her  own  opinion  at  least,  nothing  went 
on  well  without  her  immediate  superintendence.  Limited, 
therefore,  as  was  her  sphere,  she  remained  fixed  in  the 
centre  thereof ;  and  few  as  were  her  satellites,  they  were 
under  the  necessity  of  performing  their  revolutions  around 
her,  while  she  herself  continued  stationary.  Saturn,  in 
fact,  would  be  scarce  more  surprised  at  a  passing  call 
from  the  Sun,  than  Mr.  Bindloose  at  this  unexpected 
visit  of  his  old  client.  In  one  breath  he  rebuked  the  in- 
quisitive impertinence  of  his  clerks,  in  another  stimulated 
his  housekeeper,  old  Hannah — for  Mr.  Bindloose  was  a 
bluff  bachelor — to  get  tea  ready  in  the  green  parlour; 
and  while  yet  speaking,  was  at  the  side  of  the  whiskey, 
unclasping  the  curtains,  rolling  down  the  apron,  and  as- 
sisting his  old  friend  to  dismount. 

"  The  japanned  tea-caddie,  Hannah — the  best  bohea — 
bid  Tib  kindle  a  spark  of  fire — the  morning's   damp — 


214  WAVKKI.KY    NOVELS. 

Draw  in  the  giggling  faces  of  ye,  ye  d — d  idle  scoun- 
drels, or  laugh  at  jour  ain  toom  pouches — it  will  be  lang 
or  your  weeldoing  fill  them."  This  was  spoken  as  the 
honest  lawyer  himself  might  have  said,  in  transitu,  the 
rest  by  the  side  of  the  carriage.  "My  stars,  Mrs.  Dods, 
and  is  this  really  you  ain  sell,  in  propria  persona  ? — Wha 
lookit  for  you  at  such  a  time  of  day  ? — Anthony,  how's 
a'  wi'  ye,  Anthony  ?— so  ye  hae  taen  the  road,  again,  An- 
thony— help  us  down  wi'  the  apron,  Anthony — that  will 
do. — Lean  on  me,  Mrs.  Dods — help  your  mistress,  An- 
thony— put  the  horses  in  my  stable — the  lads  will  give 
you  the  key. — Come  away,  Mrs.  Dods — I  am  blithe  to 
see  you  straight  your  legs  on  the  causeway  of  our  auld 
borough  again — come  in  by,  and  we'll  see  to  get  you 
some  breakfast,  for  ye  hae  been  asteer  early  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  I  am  a  sair  trouble  to  you,  Mr.  Bindloose,"  said  the 
old  lady,  accepting  the  offer  of  his  arm,  and  accompany- 
ing him  into  the  house ;  "  I  am  e'en  a  sair  trouble  to  you, 
but  I  could  not  rest  till  I  had  your  advice  on  something 
of  moment." 

"  Happy  will  I  be  to  serve  you,  my  gude  auld  acquain- 
tance," said  the  Clerk  ;  "  but  sit  you  down — sit  you  down 
— sit  you  down,  Mrs.  Dods, — meat  and  mess  never  hin- 
dered wark.  Ye  are  something  overcome  wi'  your  travel 
— the  spirit  canna  aye  bear  through  the  flesh,  Mrs.  Dods  ; 
ye  should  remember  that  your  life  is  a  precious  one,  and 
ye  should  take  care  of  your  health,  Mrs.  Dods." 

"  My  life  precious  !  "  exclaimed  Meg  Dods  ;  "  nane  o' 
your  whullywhaing,  Mr.  Bindloose — Deil  ane  wad  miss 
the  auld  girning  alewife,  Mr.  Bindloose,  unless  it  were 
here  and  there  a  puir  body,  and  maybe  the  auld  house- 
tyke,  that  wadna  be  sae  weel  guided,  puir  fallow." 


ST.   ROXAX'S    WELL.  215 

"  Fie,  fie !  Mrs.  Dods,"  said  the  Clerk,  in  a  tone  of 
friendly  rebuke  ;  "  it  vexes  an  auld  friend  to  hear  ye 
speak  of  yourself  in  that  respectless  sort  of  a  way ;  and, 
as  for  quitting  us,  I  bless  God  I  have  not  seen  you  look 
better  this  half  score  of  years.  But  maybe  you  will  be 
thinking  of  setting  your  house  in  order,  which  is  the  act 
of  a  carefu'  and  of  a  Christian  woman — 0 !  it's  an 
awfu'  -thing  to  die  intestate,  if  we  had  grace  to  con- 
sider it." 

"  Aweel,  I  daur  say  I'll  consider  that  some  day  soon, 
Mr.  Bindloose  ;  but  that's  no  my  present  errand." 

"  Be  it  what  it  like,  Mrs.  Dods,  ye  are  right  heartily 
welcome  here,  and  we  have  a'  the  day  to  speak  of  the 
business  in  hand — -festina  lente,  that  is  the  true  law  lan- 
guage— hooly  and  fairly,  as  one  may  say — ill  treating 
of  business  with  an  empty  stomach — and  here  comes 
your  tea,  and  I  hope  Hannah  has  made  it  to  your 
taste." 

Meg  sipped  her  tea — confessed  Hannah's  skill  in  the 
mysteries  of  the  Chinese  herb — sipped  again,  then  tried 
to  eat  a  bit  of  bread  and  butter,  with  very  indifferent 
success ;  and  notwithstanding  the  lawyer's  compliments 
to  her  good  looks,  seemed,  in  reality,  on  the  point  of 
becoming  ill. 

"  In  the  deil's  name,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  said  the 
lawyer,  too  well  read  in  a  profession  where  sharp  obser- 
vation is  peculiarly  necessary,  to  suffer  these  symptoms 
of  agitation  to  escape  him.  "  Ay,  dame,  ye  are  taking 
this  business  of  yours  deeper  to  heart  than  ever  I  kend 
you  take  ony  thing.  Ony  o'  your  banded  debtors  failed, 
or  like  to  fail  ?  What  then,  cheer  ye  up — you  can  afford 
a  little  loss,  and  it  canna  be  ony  great  matter,  or  I  would 
doubtless  have  heard  of  it." 


21  G  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"  In  troth,  but  it  is  a  loss,  Mr.  Bindloose  ;  and  what 
say  ye  to  the  loss  of  a  friend  ?  " 

This  was  a  possibility  which  had  never  entered  the 
lawyer's  long  list  of  calamities,  and  he  was  at  some  loss 
to  conceive  what  the  old  lady  could  possibly  mean  by  so 
sentimental  a  prolusion.  But  just  as  he  began  to  come 
out  with  his,  "  Ay,  ay,  we  are  all  mortal,  Vita  incerta, 
mors  certissima  !  "  and  two  or  three  more  pithy  reflec- 
tions, which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  uttering  after  funerals, 
when  the  will  of  the  deceased  was  about  to  be  opened, — 
just  then  Mrs.  Dods  was  pleased  to  become  the  ex- 
pounder of  her  own  oracle. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,  Mr.  Bindloose,"  she  said  ;  "  I  maun 
tell  my  ain  ailment,  for  you  are  no  likely  to  guess  it ; 
and  so,  if  ye  will  shut  the  door,  and  see  that  nane  of 
your  giggling  callants  are  listening  in  the  passage,  I  will 
e'en  tell  you  how  things  stand  with  me." 

Mr.  Bindloose  hastily  arose  to  obey  her  commands, 
gave  a  cautionary  glance  into  the  Bank-office,  and  saw 
that  his  idle  apprentices  were  fast  at  their  desks — turned 
the  key  upon  them,  as  if  it  were  in  a  fit  of  absence,  and 
then  returned,  not  a  little  curious  to  know  what  could  be 
the  matter  with  his  old  friend  ;  and  leaving  off  all  far- 
ther attempts  to  put  cases,  quietly  drew  his  chair  near 
hers,  and  awaited  her  own  time  to  make  her  communica- 
tion. 

';  Mr.  Bindloose,"  said  she,  "  I  am  no  sure  that  you  may 
mind,  about  six  or  seven  years  ago,  that  there  were  twa 
daft  English  callants,  lodgers  of  mine,  that  had  some 
trouble  from  auld  St.  Konan's  about  shooting  on  the 
Springwell-head  muirs." 

"  I  mind  it  as  weel  as  yesterday,  Mistress,"  said  the 
Clerk ;  "  by  the  same  token  you  gave  me  a  note  for  my 


ST.  ronan's  well.  217 

trouble,  (which  wasna  worth  speaking  about,)  and  bade 
me  no  bring  in  a  bill  agaiust  the  puir  bairns — ye  had  aye 
a  kind  heart,  Mrs.  Dods." 

"  Maybe,  and  maybe  no,  Mr.  Bindloose — that  is  just 
as  I  find  folk. — But  concerning  these  lads,  they  baith 
left  the  country,  and,  as  I  think,  in  some  ill  blude  wi'  ane 
another,  and  now  the  auldest  and  the  doucest  of  the  twa 
came  back  again  about  a  fortnight  sin'  syne,  and  has  been 
my  guest  ever  since." 

"  Aweel,  and  I  trust  he  is  not  at  his  auld  tricks  again, 
goodwife  ?  "  answered  the  Clerk.  "  I  havena  sae  muckle 
to  say  either  wi'  the  new  Sheriff  or  the  Bench  of  Justices 
as  I  used  to  hae,  Mrs.  Dods — and  the  Procurator-fiscal 
is  very  severe  on  poaching,  being  borne  out  by  the  new 
Association — few  of  our  auld  friends  of  the  Killnakelty 
are  able  to  come  to  the  sessions  now,  Mrs.  Dods." 

"  The  waur  for  the  country,  Mr.  Bindloose,"  replied 
the  old  lady — "  they  were  decent,  considerate  men,  that 
didna  plague  a  puir  herd  callant  muckle  about  a  moor- 
fowl  or  a  mawkin,  unless  he  turned  common  fowler — 
Sir  Robert  Ringhorse  used  to  say,  the  herd  lads  shot  as 
mony  gleds  and  pyots  as  they  did  game. — But  new  lords 
new  laws — naething  but  fine  and  imprisonment,  and  the 
game  no  a  feather  the  plentier.  If  I  wad  hae  a  brace  or 
twa  of  birds  in  the  house,  as  everybody  looks  for  them 
after  the  twelfth — I  ken  what  they  are  like  to  cost  me — 
And  what  for  no  ? — risk  maun  be  paid  for. — There  is 
John  Pirner  himsell,  that  has  keepit  the  muir-side  thirty 
year,  in  spite  of  a'  the  lairds  in  the  country,  shoots,  he 
tells  me,  now-a-days,  as  if  he  felt  a  rape  about  his 
neck." 

"  It  wasna  about  ony  game  business,  then,  that  you 
wanted  ail  vice?"  said  Bindloose,  who,  though  somewhat 


218  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

ofadigresser  himself,  made  little  allowance  for  the  ex- 
cursions of  others  from  the  subject  in  hand. 

"Indeed  is  it  no,  Mr.  Bindloose,"  said  Meg;  "but  it 
is  e'en  about  this  unhappy  callant  that  I  spoke  to  you 
about. — Ye  maun  ken  I  have  cleiket  a  particular  fancy 
to  this  lad,  Francis  Tirl — a  fancy  that  whiles  surprises 
my  very  sell,  Mr.  Bindloose,  only  that  there  is  nae  sin 
in  it."  ' 

"  None — none  in  the  world,  Mrs.  Dods,"  said  the  law- 
yer, thinking  at  the  same  time  within  his  own  mind, 
"  Oho !  the  mist  begins  to  clear  up — the  young  poacher 
has  hit  the  mark,  I  see — winged  the  old  barren  gray  hen  ! 
— ay,  ay, — a  marriage-contract,  no  doubt — but  I  maun  gie 
her  line. — Ye  are  a  wise  woman,  Mrs.  Dods,"  he  con- 
tinued aloud,  "  and  can  doubtless  consider  the  chances 
and  the  changes  of  human  affairs." 

"  But  I  could  never  have  considered  what  has  befallen 
this  puir  lad,  Mr.  Bindloose,"  said  Mrs.  Dods,  "  through 
the  malice  of  wicked  men. — He  lived  then,  at  the  Cleik- 
um,  as  I  tell  you,  for  mair  than  a  fortnight,  as  quiet  as  a 
lamb  on  a  lea-rig — a  decenter  lad  never  came  within  my 
door — ate  and  drank  aneugh  for  the  gude  of  the  house, 
and  nae  mair  than  was  for  his  ain  gude,  whether  of  body 
or  soul — cleared  his  bills  ilka  Saturday  at  e'en,  as  regu- 
larly as  Saturday  came  round." 

"  An  admirable  customer,  no  doubt,  Mrs.  Dods,"  said 
the  lawyer. 

"  Never  was  the  like  of  him  for  that  matter,"  answered 
the  honest  dame.  "  But  to  see  the  malice  of  men ! — 
Some  of  thae  landloupers  and  gill-flirts  doun  at  the  filthy 
puddle  yonder,  that  they  ca'  the  Waal,  had  heard  of  this 
puir  lad,  and  the  bits  of  pictures  that  he  made  fashion  of 
drawing,  and  they  maun  cuitle  him  awa  doun  to  the  hot- 


ST.  ronan's  well.  219 

tie,  where  mony  a  bonny  story  they  had  decked,  Mr. 
Bindloose,  baith  of  Mr.  Tirl  and  of  mysell." 

"  A  Commissary  Court  business,"  said  the  writer,  going 
off  again  upon  a  false  scent.  "I  shall  trim  their  jackets 
for  them,  Mrs.  Dods,  if  you  can  but  bring  tight  evidence 
of  the  facts— I  will  soon  bring  them  to  fine  and  palinode 
— I  will  make  them  repent  meddling  with  your  good 
name." 

"  My  gude  name  !  What  the  sorrow  is  the  matter  wi' 
my  name,  Mr.  Bindloose  ?  "  said  the  irritable  client,  "  I 
think  ye  hae  been  at  the  wee  cappie  this  morning,  for  as 
early  as  it  is — My  gude  name ! — if  ony  body  touched  my 
gude  name,  I  would  neither  fash  counsel  nor  commissary 
— I  wad  be  down  amang  them,  like  a  jer-falcon  amang  a 
Avheen  wild-geese,  and  the  best  amang  them  that  dared  to 
say  ony  thing  of  Meg  Dods  but  what  was  honest  and 
civil,  I  wad  sune  see  if  her  cockernonnie  was  made  of  her 
ain  hair  or  other  folks.     My  gude  name,  indeed  ! " 

"Weel,  weel,  Mrs.  Dods,  I  was  mista'en,  that's  a'," 
said  the  writer,  "  I  was  mista'en ;  and  I  dare  to  say  you 
would  haud  your  ain  wi'  your  neighbours  as  weel  as  ony 
woman  in  the  land — But  let  us  hear  now  what  the  grief 
is,  in  one  word." 

"  In  one  word,  then,  Clerk  Bindloose,  it  is  little  short 
0f — murder,"  said  Meg  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  the  very 
utterance  of  the  word  startled  her. 

"  Murder  !  murder,  Mrs.  Dods  ? — it  cannot  be — there 
is  not  a  word  of  it  in  the  Sheriff-office — the  Procurator- 
fiscal  kens  nothing  of  it — there  could  not  be  murder  in 
the  country,  and  me  not  hear  of  it — for  God's  sake,  take 
heed  what  you  say,  woman,  and  dinna  get  yourself  into 
trouble." 

"Mr.  Bindloose,  I    can   but   speak    according  to   my 


220  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

lights,"  said  Mrs.  Dods ;  "  you  are  in  a  sense  a  judge  in 
Israel,  at  least  you  are  one  of  the  scribes  having  author- 
ity— and  I  tell  you  with  a  wae  and  bitter  heart,  that  this 
puir  callant  of  mine  that  was  lodging  in  my  house  has 
been  murdered  or  kidnapped  awa  amang  thae  banditti 
folk  down  at  (lie  New  Waal;  and  I'll  hae  the  law  put 
in  force  against  them,  if  it  should  cost  me  a  hundred 
pounds." 

The  Clerk  stood  much  astonished  at  the  nature  of  Meg's 
accusation,  and  the  pertinacity  with  which  she  seemed 
disposed  to  insist  upon  it. 

"  I  have  this  comfort,"  she  continued,  "  that  whatever 
has  happened,  it  has  been  by  no  fault  of  mine,  Mr.  Bind- 
loose  ;  for  weel  I  wot,  before  that  bloodthirsty  auld  half- 
pay  Philistine,  MacTurk,  got  to  speech  of  him,  I  clawed  his 
cantle  to  some  purpose  with  my  hearth-besom. — But  the 
poor  simple  bairn  himsell,  that  had  nae  mair  knowledge 
of  the  wickedness  of  human  nature  than  a  calf  has  of  a 
flesher's  gully,  he  threepit  to  see  the  auld  hardened  blood- 
shedder,  and  trysted  wi'  him  to  meet  wi'  some  of  the  gang 
at  an  hour  certain  the  neist  day,  and  awa  he  gaed  to  keep 
tryst,  but  since  that  hour  naebody  ever  has  set  een  on  him. 
— And  the  mansworn  villains  now  want  to  put  a  disgrace 
on  him,  and  say  that  he  fled  the  country  rather  than  face 
them  ! — a  likely  story — fled  the  country  for  them  ! — and 
leave  his  bill  unsettled — him  that  was  sae  regular — and 
his  portmantle  and  his  fishing-rod,  and  the  pencils  and 
pictures  he  held  sic  a  wark  about ! — It's  my  faithful  belief, 
Mr.  Bindloose — and  ye  may  trust  me  or  no  as  ye  like — 
that  he  had  some  foul  play  between  the  Cleikum  and  the 
Buck-stane.  I  have  thought  it,  and  I  have  dreamed  it, 
and  I  will  be  at  the  bottom  of  it,  or  my  name  is  not  Meg 
Dods,  and  that  I  wad  have  them  a'  to  reckon  on. — Ay,  ay, 


st.  ronan's  well.  221 

that's  right,  Mr.  Bindloose,  tak  out  your  pen  and  inkhorn, 
and  let  us  set  about  it  to  purpose." 

With  considerable  difficulty,  and  at  the  expense  of 
much  cross-examination,  Mr.  Bindloose  extracted  from 
his  client  a  detailed  account  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
company  at  the  Well  towards  Tyrrel,  so  far  as  they  were 
known  to,  or  suspected  by  Meg,  making  notes,  as  the 
examination  proceeded,  of  what  ajjpeared  to  be  matter  of 
consequence.  After  a  moment's  consideration,  he  asked 
the  dame  the  very  natural  question,  how  she  came  to  be 
acquainted  with  the  material  fact,  that  a  hostile  appoint- 
ment was  made  between  Captain  MacTurk  and  her 
lodger,  when,  according  to  her  own  account,  it  was  made 
intra  parietes,  and  remotis  testibus  ? 

"Ay,  but  we  victuallers  ken  weel  aneugh  what  goes  on 
in  our  ain  houses,"  said  Meg — "  And  what  for  no  ? — If 
ye  maun  ken  a'  about  it,  I  e'en  listened  through  the  key- 
hole of  the  door." 

"  And  do  you  say  you  heard  them  settle  an  appointment 
for  a  duel  ?  "  said  the  Clerk  ;  "  and  did  you  no  take  ony 
measures  to  hinder  mischief,  Mrs.  Dods,  having  such  a 
respect  for  this  lad  as  you  say  you  have,  Mrs.  Dods  ? — I 
really  wadna  have  looked  for  the  like  o'  this  at  your 
hands." 

"  In  truth,  Mr.  Bindloose,"  said  Meg,  putting  her  apron 
to  her  eyes,  "  and  that's  what  vexes  me  mair  than  a'  the 
rest,  and  ye  needna  say  muckle  to  ane  whose  heart  is  e'en 
the  sairer  that  she  has  been  a  thought  to  blame.  But 
there  has  been  mony  a  challenge,  as  they  ca'  it,  passed  in 
my  house  when  thae  daft  lads  of  the  Wildfire  Club  and 
tin-  Helterskelter  were  upon  their  rambles;  and  they  had 
aye  sense  aneugh  to  make  it  up  without  fighting,  sac  that 
I  really  did  not  apprehend  ony  thing  like  mischief. — And 


222  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

ye  maun  think,  moreover,  Mr.  Bindloose,  that  it  would 
have  been  an  unco  thing  if  a  guest,  in  a  decent  and  cred- 
itable public  like  mine,  was  to  have  cried  coward  before 
ony  of  time  land-louping  blackguards  that  live  down  at 
the   buttle  yonder." 

"  That  is  to  say,  Mrs.  Dods,  you  were  desirous  your 
guest  should  fight  for  the  honour  of  your  house,"  said 
Bindloose. 

"  What  for  no,  Mr.  Bindloose  ? — Isna  that  kind  of  fray 
aye  about  honour  ?  and  what  for  should  the  honour  of  a 
substantial,  four-nooked,  sclated  house  of  three  stories,  no 
be  foughten  for,  as  weel  as  the  credit  of  ony  of  these  feck- 
less callants  that  make  such  a  fray  about  their  reputation  ? 
— I  promise  you  my  house,  the  Cleikum,  stood  in  the  Auld 
Town  of  St.  Ronan's  before  they  were  born,  and  it  will 
stand  there  after  they  are  hanged,  as  I  trust  some  of  them 
are  like  to  be." 

"  Well,  but  perhaps  your  lodger  had  less  zeal  for  the 
honour  of  the  house,  and  has  quietly  taken  himself  out  of 
harm's  way,"  said  Mr.  Bindloose  ;  "  for  if  I  understand 
your  story,  this  meeting  never  took  place." 

"  Have  less  zeal !  "  said  Meg,  determined  to  be  pleased 
with  no  supposition  of  her  lawyer,  "  Mr.  Bindloose,  ye 
little  ken  him — I  wish  ye  had  seen  him  when  he  was  an- 
gry ! — I  dared  hardly  face  him  mysell,  and  there  are  no 
mony  folk  that  I  am  feared  for — Meeting !  there  was  nae 
meeting,  I  trow — they  never  dared  to  meet  him  fairly — but 
I  am  sure  waur  came  of  it  than  ever  would  have  come  of  a 
meeting ;  for  Anthony  heard  twa  shots  gang  off  as  he  was 
watering  the  auld  naig  down  at  the  burn,  and  that  is  not 
far  frae  the  footpath  that  leads  to  the  Buck-stane.  I  was 
angry  at  him  for  no  making  on  to  see  what  the  matter  was, 
but  he  thought  it  was  auld  Pirner  out  wi'  the  double  bar- 


st.  bonan's  well.  223 

rel,  and  he  wasna  keen  of  making  himself  a  witness, 
in  case  he  suld  have  been  caa'd  on  in  the  Poaching 
Court." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Sheriff-clerk,  "  and  I  dare  say  he  did 
hear  a  poacher  fire  a  couple  of  shots — nothing  more  like- 
ly. Believe  me,  Mrs.  Dods,  your  guest  had  no  fancy  for 
the  party  Captain  MacTurk  invited  him  to — and  being  a 
quiet  sort  of  man,  he  has  just  walked  away  to  his  own 
home,  if  he  has  one — I  am  really  sorry  you  have  given 
yourself  the  trouble  of  this  long  journey  about  so  simple 
a  matter." 

Mrs.  Dods  remained  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground 
in  a  very  sullen  and  discontented  posture,  and  when  she 
spoke,  it  was  in  a  tone  of  corresponding  displeasure. 

"  Aweel — aweel — live  and  learn,  they  say — I  thought 
I  had  a  friend  in  you,  Mr.  Bindloose — I  am  sure  I  aye 
took  your  part  when  folk  miscaa'd  ye,  and  said  ye  were 
this,  that,  and  the  other  thing,  and  little  better  than  an 
auld  sneck-drawing  loon,  Mr.  Bindloose. — And  ye  have 
aye  keepit  my  penny  of  money,  though,  nae  doubt,  Tarn 
Turnpenny  lives  nearer  me,  and  they  say  he  allows  half 
a  per  cent  mair  than  ye  do  if  the  siller  lies,  and  mine  is 
but  seldom  steered." 

"  But  ye  have  not  the  Bank's  security,  madam,"  said 
Mr.  Bindloose,  reddening.  "I  say  harm  of  nae  man's 
credit — ill  would  it  beseem  me — but  there  is  a  difference 
between  Tam  Turnpenny  and  the  Bank,  I  trow." 

"  Week  weel,  Bank  here  Bank  there,  I  thought  I  had 
a  friend  in  you,  Mr.  Bindloose  ;  and  here  am  I,  come 
from  my  ain  house  all  the  way  to  yours,  for  sma'  comfort, 
I  think." 

"  My  stars,  madam,"  said  the  perplexed  scribe,  "  what 
would  you  have  me  to  do  in  such  a  blind  story  as  yours, 


224  WAVEELEY    NOVELS. 

Mrs.  Dods  ? — Be  a  thought  reasonable — consider  that 
there  is  no  Corpus  delicti." 

"  Corpvs  delicti  ?  and  what's  that?  "  said  Meg  ;  "  some- 
thing to  be  paid  for,  nae  doubt,  for  your  hard  words  a' 
end  in  that. — And  what  for  suld  I  no  have  a  Corpus  de- 
licti, or  a  Habeas  Corpus,  or  ony  other  Corpus  that  I 
like,  sac  lang  as  I  am  willing  to  lick  and  lay  down  the 
ready  siller." 

"  Lord  help  and  pardon  us,  Mrs.  Dods,"  said  the  dis- 
tressed agent,  "  ye  mistake  the  matter  a'  thegether  !  When 
I  say  there  is  no  Corpus  delicti,  I  mean  to  say  there  is 
no  proof  that  a  crime  has  been  committed."  * 

"And  does  the  man  say  that  murder  is  not  a  crime, 
than  ?  "  answered  Meg,  who  had  taken  her  own  view  of 
the  subject  far  too  strongly  to  be  converted  to  any  other 
— "  Weel  I  wot  it's  a  crime,  baith  by  the  law  of  God  and 
man,  and  mony  a  pretty  man  has  been  strapped  for  it." 

"  I  ken  all  that  very  weel,"  answered  the  writer ;  "  but, 
my  stars,  Mrs.  Dods,  there  is  nae  evidence  of  murder  in 
this  case — nae  proof  that  a  man  has  been  slain — nae  pro- 
duction of  his  dead  body — and  that  is  what  we  call  the 
Corpus  delicti." 

"  Weel,  than,  the  deil  lick  it  out  of  ye,"  said  Meg  ris- 
ing in  wrath,  "  for  I  will  awa  hame  again  ;  and  as  for  the 
puir  lad's  body,  I'll  hae  it  fund,  if  it  cost  me  turning  the 
earth  for  three  miles  round  wi'  pick  and  shool — if  it  were 
but  to  give  the  puir  bairn  Christian  burial,  and  to  bring 
punishment  on  MacTurk  and  the  murdering  crew  at  the 
Waal,  and  to  shame  an  auld  doited  fule  like  yoursell,  John 
Bindloose." 

*  For  example,  a  man  cannot  be  tried  for  murder  merely  in  the 
case  of  the  non-appearance  of  an  individual;  there  must  be  proof 
that  the  party  has  been  murdered. 


ST.    ROXAX  S    WELL. 


225 


She  rose  in  wrath  to  call  her  vehicle  ;  but  it  was  neither 
the  interest  nor  the  intention  of  the  writer  that  his  cus- 
tomer and  he  should  part  on  such  indifferent  terms.  He 
implored  her  patience,  and  reminded  her  that  the  horses, 
poor  things,  had  just  come  off  their  stage — an  argument 
which  sounded  irresistible  in  the  ears  of  the  old  she-pub- 
lican, in  whose  early  education  due  care  of  the  post-cattle 
mingled  with  the  most  sacred  duties.  She  therefore  re- 
sumed  her  seat  again  in  a  sullen  mood,  and  Mr.  Bindloose 
was  cudgelling  his  brains  for  some  argument  which  might 
bring  the  old  lady  to  reason,  when  his  attention  was  drawn 
by  a  noise  in  the  passage. 


VOL.    XXXIII. 


15 


226  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A    PRAISER    OF    PAST    TIMES. 


Now  your  traveller, 

He  and  his  toothpick  at  my  worship's  mess. 

King  John. 


The  noise  stated  at  the  conclusion  of  last  chapter  to 
have  disturbed  Mr.  Bindloose,  was  the  rapping  of  one  as 
in  haste  and  impatience,  at  the  Bank-office  door,  which 
office  was  an  apartment  of  the  Banker's  house,  on  the 
left  hand  of  his  passage,  as  the  parlour  in  which  he  had 
received  Mrs.  Dods  was  upon  the  right. 

In  general,  this  office  was  patent  to  all  having  business 
there  ;  but  at  present,  whatever  might  be  the  hurry  of 
the  party  who  knocked,  the  clerks  within  the  office  could 
not  admit  him,  being  themselves  made  prisoners  by  the 
prudent  jealousy  of  Mr.  Bindloose,  to  prevent  them  from 
listening  to  his  consultation  with  Mrs.  Dods.  They 
therefore  answered  the  angry  and  impatient  knocking  of 
the  stranger  only  with  stifled  giggling  from  within,  find- 
ing it  no  doubt  an  excellent  joke,  that  their  master's  pre- 
caution was  thus  interfering  with  their  own  discharge  of 
duty. 

With  one  or  two  hearty  curses  upon  them  as  the  regu- 
lar plagues  of  his  life,  Mr.  Bindloose  darted  into  the  pas- 
sage, and  admitted  the  stranger  into  his  official  apartment. 


ST.  roxan's  well.  227 

The  doors  both  of  the  parlour  and  office  remaining  open, 
the  ears  of  Luckie  Dods  (experienced,  as  the  reader 
knows,  in  collecting  intelligence)  could  partly  overhear 
what  passed.  The  conversation  seemed  to  regard  a  cash 
transaction  of  some  importance,  as  Meg  became  aware 
when  the  stranger  raised  a  voice  which  was  naturally 
sharp  and  high,  as  he  did  when  uttering  the  following 
words,  towards  the  close  of  a  conversation  which  had 
lasted  about  five  minutes — "  Premium  ? — Not  a  pice,  sir 
— not  a  courie — not  a  farthing — premium  for  a  Bank  of 
England  bill  ?  d'ye  take  me  for  a  fool,  sir  ? — do  not  I 
know  that  you  call  forty  days  par  when  you  give  remit- 
tances to  London  ?  " 

Mr.  Bindloose  was  here  heard  to  mutter  something  in- 
distinctly about  the  custom  of  the  trade. 

"  Custom  ! "  retorted  the  stranger,  "  no  such  thing — 
damn'd  bad  custom,  if  it  is  one — don't  tell  me  of  customs 
— 'Sbodikins,  man,  I  know  the  rate  of  exchange  all  over 
the  world,  and  have  drawn  bills  from  Timbuctoo — My 
friends  in  the  Strand  filed  it  along  with  Bruce's  from 
Gondar — talk  to  me  of  premium  on  a  Bank  of  England 
post-bill ! — What  d'ye  look  at  the  bill  for  ? — D'ye  think  it 
doubtful  ? — I  can  change  it." 

"  By  no  means  necessary,"  answered  Bindloose,  "  the 
bill  is  quite  right ;  but  it  is  usual  to  indorse,  sir." 

"  Certainly — reach  me  a  pen — d'ye  think  I  can  write 
with  my  ratan  ? — What  sort  of  ink  is  this  ? — yellow  as 
curry  sauce — never  mind — there  is  my  name — Peregrine 
Touchwood — I  got  it  from  the  Willoughbies,  my  Chris- 
tian name — Have  I  my  full  change  here  ?  " 

"  Your  full  change,  sir,"  answered  Bindloose. 
■  Why,  you  should  give  me  a  premium,  friend,  instead 
of  me  giving  you  one." 


228  W.VVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"  It  is  out  of  our  way,  I  assure  you,  sir,"  said  the 
banker,  "  quite  out  of  our  way — but  if  you  would  step 
into  the  parlour  and  take  a  cup  of  tea" 

"  Why,  ay,"  said  the  stranger,  his  voice  sounding  more 
distinctly  as  (talking  all  the  while,  and  ushered  along  by 
Mr.  Bindloose)  he  left  the  office  and  moved  towards  the 
parlour,  "  a  cup  of  tea  were  no  such  bad  thing,  if  one 

could  come  by  it  genuine — but  as  for  your  premium" 

So  saying,  he  entered  the  parlour  and  made  his  bow  to 
Mrs.  Dods,  who,  seeing  what  she  called  a  decent  purpose- 
like body,  and  aware  that  his  pocket  was  replenished  with 
English  and  Scottish  paper  currency,  returned  the  com- 
pliment with  her  best  curtsy. 

Mr.  Touchwood,  when  surveyed  more  at  leisure,  was  a 
short,  stout,  active  man,  who,  though  sixty  years  of  age 
and  upwards,  retained  in  his  sinews  and  frame  the  elas- 
ticity of  an  earlier  period.  His  countenance  expressed 
self-conlidence,  and  something  like  a  contempt  for  those 
who  had  neither  seen  nor  endured  so  much  as  he  had  him- 
self. His  short  black  hair  was  mingled  with  gray,  but 
not  entirely  whitened  by  it.  His  eyes  were  jet  black, 
deep-set,  small,  and  sparkling,  and  contributed,  with  a 
short  turned-up  nose,  to  express  an  irritable  and  choleric 
habit.  His  complexion  was  burnt  to  a  brick-colour  by 
the  vicissitudes  of  climate,  to  which  it  had  been  subjected  ; 
and  his  face,  which,  at  the  distance  of  a  yard  or  two, 
seemed  hale  and  smooth,  appeared,  when  closely  exam- 
ined, to  be  seamed  with  a  million  of  wrinkles,  crossing 
each  other  in  every  direction  possible,  but  as  fine  as  if 
drawn  by  the  point  of  a  very  small  needle.*  His  dress 
was  a  blue  coat  and  buff  waistcoat,  half-boots  remarkably 

*  This  was  a  peculiarity  in  the  countenance  of  the  celebrated  Cos- 
sack leader  Platoff. 


ST.    EOXAX'S    WELL.  229 

well  blacked,  and  a  silk  handkerchief  tied  with  military 
precision.  The  only  antiquated  part  of  his  dress  was  a 
cocked  hat  of  equilateral  dimensions,  in  the  button-hole 
of  which  he  wore  a  very  small  cockade.  Mrs.  Dods,  ac- 
customed to  judge  of  persons  by  their  first  appearance, 
said,  that  in  the  three  steps  which  he  made  from  the  door 
to  the  tea-table,  she  recognised,  without  the  possibility  of 
mistake,  the  gait  of  a  person  who  was  well  to  pass  in  the 
world ;  "  and  that,"  she  added  with  a  wink,  "  is  what  we 
victuallers  are  seldom  deceived  in.  If  a  gold-laced  waist- 
coat has  an  empty  pouch,  the  plain  swan's-down  will  be 
the  brawer  of  the  twa." 

"  A  drizzling  morning,  good  madam,"  said  Mr.  Touch- 
wood, as  with  a  view  of  sounding  what  sort  of  company 
he  had  got  into. 

"  A  fine  saft  morning  for  the  crap,  sir,"  answered  Mrs. 
Dods,  with  equal  solemnity. 

"  Right  my  good  madam ;  soft  is  the  veiy  word,  though 
it  has  been  some  time  since  I  heard  it.  I  have  cast  a 
double  hank  about  the  round  world  since  I  last  heard  of 
a  soft  *  morning." 

"  You  will  be  from  these  parts,  then  ?  "  said  the  writer, 
ingeniously  putting  a  case,  which,  he  hoped,  would  induce 
the  stranger  to  explain  himself.  "  And  yet,  sir,"  he 
added,  after  a  pause,  "  I  was  thinking  that  Touchwood  is 
not  a  Scottish  name,  at  least  that  I  ken  of." 

"Scottish  name  ? — no,"  replied  the  traveller ;  "  but  a 
man  may  have  been  in  these  parts  before,  without  being 
a  native — or,  being  a  native,  he  may  have  had  some 
reason  to  change  his  name — there  are  many  reasons  why 
men  change  their  names." 

*  An  epithet  which  expresses,  in  Scotland,  what  the  barometer  calls 
rainy. 


230  "WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"  Certainly,  and  some  of*  them  very  good  ones,"  said 
the  lawyer  ;  "  as  in  the  common  case  of  an  heir  of  entail, 
where  deed  of  provision  and  tailzie  is  maist  ordinarily 
implemented  by  taking  up  name  and  arms." 

"  Ay,  or  in  the  case  of  a  man  having  made  the  country 
too  hot  for  him  under  his  own  proper  appellative,"  said 
Mr.  Touchwood. 

"  That  is  a  supposition,  sir,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "  which 
it  would  ill  become  me  to  put. — But  at  any  rate,  if  you 
knew  this  country  formerly,  ye  cannot  but  be  marvel- 
lously pleased  with  the  change  we  have  been  making 
since  the  American  war, — hill-sides  bearing  clover  in- 
stead of  heather, — rents  doubled,  trebled,  quadrupled, — 
the  auld  reekie  dungeons  pulled  down,  and  gentlemen 
living  in  as  good  houses  as  you  will  see  anywhere  in 
England." 

"  Much  good  may  it  do  them,  for  a  pack  of  fools ! " 
replied  Mr.  Touchwood,  hastily. 

"  You  do  not  seem  much  delighted  with  our  improve- 
ments, sir,"  said  the  banker,  astonished  to  hear  a  dissen- 
tient voice  where  he  conceived  all  men  were  unanimous. 

"  Pleased  !  "  answered  the  stranger — "  Yes,  as  much 
pleased  as  I  am  with  the  devil,  who,  I  believe,  set  many 
of  them  agoing.  Ye  have  got  an  idea  that  every  thing 
must  be  changed — Unstable  as  water,  ye  shall  not  excel 
— I  tell  ye,  there  have  been  more  changes  in  this  poor 
nook  of  yours  within  the  List  forty  years  than  in  the 
great  empires  of  the  East  for  the  space  of  four  thousand, 
for  what  I  know." 

"And  why  not,"  replied  Bindloose,  "if  they  be  changes 
for  the  better  ?  " 

"  But  they  are  not  for  the  better,"  replied  Mr.  Touch- 
wood, eagerly.     "  I  left  your  peasantry  as  poor  as  rats 


ST.  roxan's  well.  231 

indeed,  but  honest  and  industrious,  enduring  their  lot  in 
this  world  with  firmness,  and  looking  forward  to  the  next 
with  hope — Now  they  are  mere  eye-servants — looking  at 
their  watches,  forsooth,  every  ten  minutes,  lest  they 
should  work  for  their  master  half  an  instant  after  loosing- 
time — And  then,  instead  of  studying  the  Bible  on  the 
work  days,  to  kittle  the  clergyman  with  doubtful  points 
of  controversy  on  the  Sabbath,  they  glean  all  their  theol- 
ogy from  Tom  Paine  and  Voltaire." 

"  Weel  I  wot  the  gentleman  speaks  truth,"  said  Mrs. 
Dods,  "  I  fand  a  bundle  of  their  bawbee  blasphemies  in 
my  ain  kitchen — But  I  trow  I  made  a  clean  house  of  the 
packman  loon  that  brought  them ! — No  content  wi'  turn- 
ing the  tawpies'  heads  wi'  ballants,  and  driving  them  daft 
wi'  ribands,  to  cheat  them  out  of  their  precious  souls,  and 
gie  them  the  deevil's  ware,  that  I  suld  say  sae,  in  ex- 
change for  the  siller  that  suld  support  their  puir  father 
that's  afF  wark  and  bedridden !  " 

"  Father !  madam,"  said  the  stranger ;  "  they  think  no 
more  of  their  father  than  Regan  or  Goneril." 

"  In  gude  troth,  ye  have  skeel  of  our  sect,  sir,"  replied 
the  dame  ;  "  they  are  gomerils,  every  one  of  them — I  tell 
them  sae  every  hour  of  the  day,  but  catch  them  profiting 
by  the  doctrine." 

"  And  then  the  brutes  are  turned  mercenary,  madam," 
said  Mr.  Touchwood.  "  I  remember  when  a  Scottishman 
would  have  scorned  to  touch  a  shilling  that  he  had  not 
earned,  and  yet  was  as  ready  to  help  a  stranger  as  an 
Arab  of  the  desert.  And  now  I  did  but  drop  my  cane 
the  other  day  as  T  was  riding — a  fellow  who  was  working 
at  the  hedge  made  three  steps  to  lift  it — I  thanked  him, 
and  my  friend  threw  his  hat  on  his  head,  and  '  damned 
my  thanks,  if  that  were  all ' — Saint  Giles  could  not  have 
excelled  him." 


232  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

"  Weel,  weel,"  said  the  banker,  "  that  may  be  a'  as  you 
say,  sir,  and  nae  doubt  wealth  makes  wit  waver,  but  the 
country's  wealthy,  that  cannot  be  denied,  and  wealth,  sir, 
ye  ken  " 

"  I  know  wealth  makes  itself  wings,"  answered  the  cyn- 
ical stranger;  "but  I  am  not  quite  sure  we  have  it  even 
now.  You  make  a  great  show,  indeed,  with  building  and 
cultivation ;  but  stock  is  not  capital,  any  more  than  the 
fat  of  a  corpulent  man  is  health  or  strength." 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Touchwood,"  said  Bindloose,  who  felt  his 
own  account  in  the  modern  improvements,  "  a  set  of  land- 
lords, living  like  lairds  in  good  earnest,  and  tenants  with 
better  housekeeping  than  the  lairds  used  to  have,  and 
facing  Whitsunday  and  Martinmas  as  I  would  face  my 
breakfast — if  these  are  not  signs  of  wealth,  I  do  not 
know  where  to  seek  for  them." 

"They  are  signs  of  folly,  sir,"  replied  Touchwood; 
"  folly  that  is  poor,  and  renders  itself  poorer  by  desiring 
to  be  thought  rich ;  and  how  they  come  by  the  means 
they  are  so  ostentatious  of,  you,  who  are  a  banker,  per- 
haps can  tell  me  better  than  I  can  guess." 

"  There  is  maybe  an  accommodation-bill  discounted 
now  and  then,  Mr.  Touchwood ;  but  men  must  have  ac- 
commodation, or  the  world  would  stand  still — accommo- 
dation is  the  grease  that  makes  the  wheels  go." 

"  Ay,  makes  them  go  down  hill  to  the  devil,"  answered 
Touchwood.  "  I  left  you  bothered  about  one  Air  Bank, 
but  the  whole  country  is  an  Air  bank  now,  I  think — And 
who  is  to  pay  the  piper  ? — But  it's  all  one — I  will  see 
little  more  of  it — it  is  a  perfect  Babel,  and  would  turn 
the  head  of  a  man  who  has  spent  his  life  with  people  who 
love  sitting  better  than  running,  silence  better  than  speak- 
ing, who   never  eat  but  when   they  are  hungry,  never 


st.  ronan's  well.  233 

drink  but  when  thirsty,  never  laugh  without  a  jest,  and 
never  speak  but  when  they  have  something  to  say.  But 
here,  it  is  all  run,  ride,  and  drive — froth,  foam,  and  flip- 
pancy— no  steadiness — no  character." 

"  I'll  lay  the  burden  of  my  life,"  said  Dame  Dods, 
looking  towards  her  friend  Bindloose,  "  that  the  gentle- 
man has  been  at  the  new  Spaw-Waal  yonder." 

"  Spaw  do  you  call  it,  madam  ? — If  you  mean  the  new 
establishment  that  has  been  spawned  down  yonder  at  St. 
Eonan's,  it  is  the  very  fountain-head  of  folly  and  cox- 
combry— a  Babel  for  noise  and  a  Vanity-fair  for  nonsense 
— no  well  in  your  swamps  tenanted  by  such  a  conceited 
colony  of  clamorous  frogs." 

"  Sir,  sir !  "  exclaimed  Dame  Dods,  delighted  with  the 
unqualified  sentence  passed  upon  her  fashionable  rivals, 
and  eager  to  testify  her  respect  for  the  judicious  stranger 
who  had  pronounced  it, — "  will  you  let  me  have  the 
pleasure  of  pouring  you  out  a  dish  of  tea  ?  "  And  so 
saying,  she  took  bustling  possession  of  the  administration 
which  had  hitherto  remained  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Bind- 
loose  himself.  "  I  hope  it  is  to  your  taste,  sir,"  she  con- 
tinued, when  the  traveller  had  accepted  her  courtesy  with 
the  grateful  acknowledgment  which  men  addicted  to 
speak  a  great  deal  usually  show  to  a  willing  auditor. 

"  It  is  as  good  as  we  have  any  right  to  expect,  ma'am," 
answered  Mr.  Touchwood ;  "  not  quite  like  what  I  have 
drunk  at  Canton  with  old  Fong  Qua  ;  but  the  Celestial 
Empire  does  not  send  its  best  tea  to  Leadenhall  Street, 
nor  does  Leadenhall  Street  send  its  best  to  Marchthorn." 

"  That  may  be  very  true,  sir,"  replied  the  dame  ;  "  but 
I  will  venture  to  say  that  Mr.  Bindloose's  tea  is  muckle 
better  than  you  had  at  the  Spaw-Waal  yonder." 

"  Tea,  madam  ! — I  saw  none — Ash  leaves  and  black- 


234  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

thorn  leaves  were  brought  in  in  painted  canisters,  and 
handed  about  by  powder-monkeys  in  livery,  and  con- 
sumed by  those  who  liked  it,  amidst  the  chattering  of 
parrots  and  the  squalling  of  kittens.  I  longed  for  the 
days  of  the  Spectator,  when  I  might  have  laid  my  penny 
on  the  bar  and  retired  without  ceremony — But  no — this 
blessed  decoction  was  circulated  under  the  auspices  of 
some  half-crazed  blue-stocking  or  other,  and  we  were 
saddled  with  all  the  formality  of  an  entertainment,  for 
this  miserable  allowance  of  a  cockle-shell  full  of  cat-lap 
per  head." 

"  Weel,  sir,"  answered  Dame  Dods,  "  all  I  can  say  is, 
that  if  it  had  been  my  luck  to  have  served  you  at  the 
Cleikum  Inn,  which  our  folks  have  kept  for  these  twa 
generations,  I  canna  pretend  to  say  ye  should  have  had 
such  tea  as  ye  have  been  used  to  in  foreign  parts  where 
it  grows,  but  the  best  I  had  I  wad  have  gi'en  it  to  a  gentle- 
man of  your  appearance,  and  I  never  charged  mair  than 
sixpence  in  all  my  time,  and  my  father's  before  me." 

"  I  wish  I  had  known  the  Old  Inn  was  still  standing, 
madam,"  said  the  traveller ;  "  I  should  certainly  have 
been  your  guest,  and  sent  down  for  the  water  every 
morning — the  doctors  insist  I  must  use  Cheltenham,  or 
some  substitute,  for  the  bile — though,  d — n  them,  I 
believe  it's  only  to  hide  their  own  ignorance.  And  I 
thought  this  Spaw  would  have  been  the  least  evil  of  the 
two ;  but  I  have  been  fairly  overreached — one  might  as 
well  live  in  the  inside  of  a  bell.  I  think  young  St.  Ro- 
nan's  must  be  mad,  to  have  established  such  a  Vanity-fair 
upon  his  father's  old  property." 

"  Do  you  ken  this  St.  Ronan's  that  now  is  ?  "  inquired 
the  dame. 

"  By  report  only,"  said  Mr.  Touchwood  ;  "  but  I  have 


st.  ronan's  well.  235 

heard  of  the  family,  and  I  think  I  have  read  of  them,  too, 
in  Scottish  history.  I  am  sorry  to  understand  they  are 
lower  in  the  world  than  they  have  been.  This  young 
man  does  not  seem  to  take  the  best  way  to  mend  matters, 
spending  his  time  among  gamblers  and  black-legs." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  if  it  were  so,"  said  honest  Meg 
Dods,  wdiose  hereditary  respect  for  the  family  always 
kept  her  from  joining  in  any  scandal  affecting  the  charac- 
ter of  the  young  laird — "  my  forbears,  sir,  have  had 
kindness  frae  his ;  and  although  maybe  he  may  have  for- 
gotten all  about  it,  it  wad  ill  become  me  to  say  ony  thing 
of  him  that  should  not  be  said  of  his  father's  son." 

Mr.  Bindloose  had  not  the  same  motive  for  forbear- 
ance ;  he  declaimed  against  Mowbray  as  a  thoughtless 
dissipater  of  his  own  fortune,  and  that  of  others.  "  I 
have  some  reason  to  speak,"  he  said,  "  having  two  of  his 
notes  for  £100  each,  which  I  discounted  out  of  mere 
kindness  and  respect  for  his  ancient  family,  and  which  he 
thinks  nae  mair  of  retiring,  than  he  does  of  paying  the 
national  debt — And  here  has  he  been  raking  every  shop 
in  Marchthorn,  to  fit  out  an  entertainment  for  all  the  fine 
folk  at  the  "Well  yonder  ;  and  tradesfolk  are  obliged  to 
take  his  acceptances  for  their  furnishings.  But  they  may 
cash  his  bills  that  will ;  I  ken  ane  that  will  never  advance 
a  bawbee  on  ony  paper  that  has  John  Mowbray  either  on 
the  back  or  front  of  it.  He  had  mair  need  to  be  paying 
the  debts  which  he  has  made  already,  than  making  new 
anes,  that  he  may  feed  fules  and  flatterers." 

"  I  believe  he  is  likely  to  lose  his  preparations,  too," 
said  Mr  Touchwood,  "  for  the  entertainment  has  been  put 
off,  as  I  heard,  in  consequence  of  Miss  Mowbray's  illness." 

"Ay,  ay,  puir  thing!"  said  Dame  Margaret  Dods; 
"  her  health  has  been  unsettled  for  this  mony  a  day." 


236  WAYl.KLKY    NOVELS. 

"  Something  wrong  here,  they  tell  me,"  said  the  travel- 
ler, pointing  to  his  own  forehead  significantly. 

"  God  only  kens,"  replied  Mrs.  Dods  ;  "  but  I.  rather 
suspect  the  heart  than  the  head — the  puir  thing  is  hur- 
ried here  and  there,  and  down  to  the  Waal,  and  up  again, 
and  nae  society  or  quiet  at  hame  ;  and  a'  thing  ganging 
this  unthrifty  gate — nae  wonder  she  is  no  that  weel  set- 
tled." 

"  Well,"  replied  Touchwood,  "  she  is  worse  they  say 
than  she  has  been,  and  that  has  occasioned  the  party  at 
Shaws-Castle  having  been  put  off.  Besides,  now  this 
fine  young  lord  has  come  down  to  the  Well,  undoubtedly 
they  will  wait  her  recovery." 

"  A  lord  !  "  ejaculated  the  astonished  Mrs.  Dods  ;  "  a 
lord  come  down  to  the  Waal — they  will  be  neither  to 
baud  nor  to  bind  now — ance  wud  and  ay  waur — a  lord  ! 
— set  them  up  and  shute  them  forward — a  lord  ! — the 
Lord  have  a  care  o'  us  ! — a  lord  at  the  hottle ! — Maister 
Touchwood,  it's  my  mind  he  will  only  prove  to  be  a  Lord 
o'  Session." 

"  Nay,  not  so,  my  good  lady,"  replied  the  traveller, 
"  he  is  an  English  lord,  and,  as  they  say,  a  Lord  of  Par- 
liament— but  some  folk  pretend  to  say  there  is  a  flaw  in 
the  title." 

"  I'll  warrant  is  there — a  dozen  of  them  ! "  said  Meg, 
with  alacrity — for  she  could  by  no  means  endure  to  think 
on  the  accumulation  of  dignity  likely  to  accrue  to  the 
rival  establishment,  from  its  becoming  the  residence  of 
an  actual  nobleman.  "  I'll  warrant  he'll  prove  a  land- 
louping  lord  on  their  hand,  and  they  will  be  e'en  cheap 
o'  the  loss — And  he  has  come  down  out  of  order  it's  like, 
and  nae  doubt  he'll  no  be  lang  there  before  he  will  re- 
cover Ins  health,  for  the  credit  of  the  Spaw." 


st.  ronan's  well.  237 

"  Faith,  madam,  his  present  disorder  is  one  which  the 
Spaw  will  hardly  cure — he  is  shot  in  the  shoulder  with 
a  pistol-bullet — a  robbery  attempted  it  seems — that  is 
one  of  your  new  accomplishments — no  such  thing  hap- 
pened in  Scotland  in  my  time — men  would  have  sooner 
expected  to  meet  with  the  phoenix  than  with  a  highway- 
man." 

"  And  where  did  this  happen,  if  you  please,  sir  ? " 
asked  the  man  of  bills. 

"  Somewhere  near  the  old  village,"  replied  the  stran- 
ger ;  "  and,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  on  Wednesday 
last." 

"  This  explains  your  twa  shots,  I  am  thinking,  Mrs. 
Dods,"  said  Mr.  Bindloose  ;  "  your  groom  heard  them  on 
the  Wednesday — it  must  have  been  this  attack  on  the 
stranger  nobleman." 

"  Maybe  it  was,  and  maybe  it  was  not,"  said  Mrs. 
Dods ;  "  but  I'll  see  gude  reason  before  I  give  up  my 
ain  judgment  in  that  case.  I  wad  like  to  ken  if  this  gen- 
tleman," she  added,  returning  to  the  subject  from  which 
Mr.  Touchwood's  interesting  conversation  had  for  a  few 
minutes  diverted  her  thoughts,  "  has  heard  aught  of  Mr. 
Tirl  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  the  person  to  whom  this  paper  relates," 
said  the  stranger,  taking  a  printed  handbill  from  his 
pocket,  "  I  heard  of  little  else — the  whole  place  rang  of 
him,  till  I  was  almost  as  sick  of  Tyrrel  as  William  Ru- 
fus  was.  Some  idiotical  quarrel  which  he  had  engaged 
in,  and  which  he  had  not  fought  out,  as  their  wisdom 
thought  he  should  have  done,  was  the  principal  cause  of 
censure.  That  is  another  folly  now,  which  has  gained 
ground  among  you.  Formerly,  two  old  proud  lairds,  or 
cadets  of  good  family,  perhaps  quarrelled,  and  had  a  ren- 


238  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

contre,  or  fought  a  duel  after  the  fashion  of  their  old 
Gothic  ancestors  ;  but  men  who  had  no  grandfathers 
never  dreamt  of  such  folly — And  here  the  folk  denounce 
a  trumpery  dauber  of  canvas,  for  such  I  understand  to 
he  this  hero's  occupation,  as  if  he  were  a  field-officer, 
who  made  valour  his  profession  ;  and  who,  if  you  de- 
prived him  of  his  honour,  was  liked  to  be  deprived  of 
his  bread  at  the  same  time. — Ha,  ha,  ha !  it  reminds  one 
of  Don  Quixote,  who  took  his  neighbour,  Samson  Car- 
rasco,  for  a  knight-errant." 

The  perusal  of  this  paper,  which  contained  the  notes 
formerly  laid  before  the  reader,  containing  the  statement 
of  Sir  Bingo,  and  the  censure  which  the  company  at  the 
Well  had  thought  fit  to  pass  upon  his  affair  with  Mr. 
Tyrrel,  induced  Mr.  Bindloose  to  say  to  Mrs.  Dods,  with 
as  little  exultation  on  the  superiority  of  his  own  judg- 
ment as  human  nature  would  permit, — 

"  Ye  see  now  that  I  was  right,  Mrs.  Dods,  and  that 
there  was  nae  earthly  use  in  your  fashing  yoursell  wi' 
this  lang  journey — The  lad  has  just  ta'en  the  bent,  rather 
than  face  Sir  Bingo ;  and  troth,  I  think  him  the  wiser  of 
the  twa  for  sae  doing — There  ye  hae  print  for  it." 

Meg  answered  somewhat  sullenly,  "  Ye  may  be  mis- 
ta'en,  for  a'  that,  your  ainsell,  for  as  wise  as  ye  are,  Mr. 
Bindloose  ;  I  shall  hae  that  matter  mair  strictly  inquired 
into." 

This  led  to  a  renewal  of  the  altercation  concerning 
the  probable  fate  of  Tyrrel,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
stranger  was  induced  to  take  some  interest  in  the  subject. 

At  length  Mrs.  Dods,  receiving  no  countenance  from 
the  experienced  lawyer  for  the  hypothesis  she  had 
formed,  rose,  in  something  like  displeasure,  to  order  her 
whiskey  to  be  prepared.     But  hostess  as  she  was  her- 


st.  konan's  well.  239 

self,  when  in  her  own  dominions,  she  reckoned  without 
her  host  in  the  present  instance ;  for  the  hump-backed 
postilion,  as  absolute  in  his  department  as  Mrs.  .Dods 
herself,  declared  that  the  cattle  would  not  be  fit  for  the 
road  these  two  hours  yet.  The  good  lady  was  therefore 
obliged  to  await  his  pleasure,  bitterly  lamenting  all  the 
while  the  loss  which  a  house  of  public  entertainment  was 
sure  to  sustain  by  the  absence  of  the  landlord  or  land- 
lady, and  anticipating  a  long  list  of  broken  dishes,  mis- 
calculated reckonings,  unarranged  chambers,  and  other 
disasters,  which  she  was  to  expect  at  her  return.  Mr. 
Biudloose,  zealous  to  recover  the  regard  of  his  good 
friend  and  client,  which  he  had  in  some  degree  forfeited 
by  contradicting  her  on  a  favourite  subject,  did  not 
choose  to  offer  the  unpleasing,  though  obvious  topic  of 
consolation,  that  an  unfrequented  inn  is  little  exposed  to 
the  accidents  she  apprehended.  On  the  contrary,  he  con- 
doled with  her  very  cordially,  and  went  so  far  as  to  hint, 
that  if  Mr.  Touchwood  had  come  to  Marchthorn  with 
post-horses,  as  he  supposed  from  his  dress,  she  could 
have  the  advantage  of  them  to  return  with  more  de- 
spatch to  St.  Ronan's. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  Mr.  Touchwood,  suddenly,  "  but 
I  may  return  there  myself.  In  that  case  I  will  be  glad  to 
set  this  good  lady  down,  and  to  stay  a  few  days  at  her 
house,  if  she  will  receive  me. — I  respect  a  woman  like 
you,  ma'am,  who  pursue  the  occupation  of  your  father 
— I  have  been  in  countries,  ma'am,  where  people  have 
followed  the  same  trade,  from  father  to  son  for  thou- 
sands of  years — And  I  like  the  fashion — it  shows  a  stead- 
iness and  sobriety  of  character. 

Mrs.  Dods  put  on  a  joyous  countenance  at  this  pro- 
posal, protesting  that  all  should  be  done  in  her  power  to 


240  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

make  things  agreeable  ;  and  while  her  good  friend,  Mr. 
Bindloose,  expatiated  upon  the  comfort  her  new  guest 
would  experience  at  the  Cleikum,  she  silently  contem- 
plated with  delight  the  prospect  of  a  speedy  and  dazzling 
triumph,  by  carrying  off  a  creditable  customer  from  her 
showy  and  successful  rival  at  the  Well. 

"  I  shall  be  easily  accommodated,  ma'am,"  said  the 
stranger ;  "  I  have  travelled  too  much  and  too  far  to  be 
troublesome.  A  Spanish  venta,  a  Persian  khan,  or  a 
Turkish  caravanserail,  is  all  the  same  to  me — only  as  I 
have  no  servant — indeed,  never  can  be  plagued  with  one 
of  these  idle  loiterers, — I  must  beg  you  will  send  to  the 
Well  for  a  bottle  of  the  water  on  such  mornings  as  I  can- 
not walk  there  myself — I  find  it  is  really  of  some  service 
to  me." 

Mrs.  Dods  readily  promised  compliance  with  this  rea- 
sonable request  ;  graciously  conceding,  that  there  "  could 
be  nae  ill  in  the  water  itsell,  but  maybe  some  gude — it 
was  only  the  New  Inn,  and  the  daft  havrels  that  they 
caa'd  the  Company,  that  she  misliked.  Folk  had  a  jest 
that  St.  Ronan  dookit  the  Deevil  in  the  Waal,  which 
garr'd  it  taste  aye  since  of  brimstone — but  she  dared  to 
say  that  was  a'  papist  nonsense,  for  she  was  tell't  by  him 
that  kend  weel,  and  that  was  the  minister  himsell,  that 
St.  Ronan  was  nane  of  your  idolatrous  Roman  saunts, 
but  a  Chaldee,"  (meaning  probably  a  Culdee,)  "  whilk 
was  doubtless  a  very  different  story." 

Matters  being  thus  arranged  to  the  satisfaction  of  both 
parties,  the  post-chaise  was  ordered,  and  speedily  ap- 
peared at  the  door  of  Mr.  Bindloose's  mansion.  It  was 
not  without  a  private  feeling  of  reluctance,  that  honest 
Meg  mounted  the  step  of  a  vehicle,  on  the  door  of 
which  was   painted,  "Fox  Inn  and  Hotel,  St.  Ro- 


ST.  ronan's  well.  241 

nan's  Well  ; "  but  it  was  too  late  to  start  such  scru- 
ples. 

"  I  never  thought  to  have  entered  ane  o'  their  hurley- 
hackets,"  she  said,  as  she  seated  herself ;  "  and  sic  a  like 
thing  as  it  is — scarce  room  for  twa  folk ! — Weel  I  wot, 
Mr.  Touchwood,  when  I  was  in  the  hiring  line,  our  twa 
chaises  wad  hae  carried,  ilk  ane  o'  them,  four  grown  folk 
and  as  mony  bairns.  I  trust  that  doited  creature  An- 
thony will  come  awa  back  wr  my  whiskey  and  the 
cattle,  as  soon  as  they  have  had  their  feed. — Are  ye 
sure  ye  hae  room  aneugh,  sir  ? — I  wad  fain  hotch  mysell 
farther  yont." 

"  0,  ma'am,  answered  the  Oriental,  "  I  am  accustomed 
to  all  sorts  of  conveyances — a  dooly,  a  litter,  a  cart,  a 
palanquin,  or  a  post-chaise,  are  all  alike  to  me — I  think 
I  could  be  an  inside  with  Queen  Mab  in  a  nutshell,  rather 
than  not  get  forward. — Begging  you  many  pardons,  if  you 
have  no  particular  objections,  I  will  light  my  sheroot," 
&c.  &c.  &c. 


VOL.   XXXIII.  16 


242  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE    CLERGYMAN. 


A  man  he  was  to  all  the  country  dear, 
And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a-year. 

Goldsmith's  Dese&ted  Village. 


Mrs.  Dods's  conviction,  that  her  friend  Tyrrel  had 
been  murdered  by  the  sanguinary  Captain  MacTurk,  re- 
mained firm  and  unshaken  ;  but  some  researches  for  the 
supposed  body  having  been  found  fruitless,  as  well  as  ex- 
pensive, she  began  to  give  up  the  matter  in  despair. 
"  She  had  done  her  duty  " — "  she  left  the  matter  to  them 
that  had  a  charge  anent  such  things  " — and  "  Providence 
would  bring  the  mystery  to  light  in  his  own  fitting  time  " 
— such  were  the  moralities  with  which  the  good  dame 
consoled  herself ;  and,  with  less  obstinacy  than  Mr.  Bind- 
loose  had  expected,  she  retained  her  opinion  without 
changing  her  banker  and  man  of  business. 

Perhaps  Meg's  acquiescent  inactivity  in  a  matter  which 
she  had  threatened  to  probe  so  deeply,  was  partly  owing 
to  the  place  of  poor  Tyrrel  being  supplied  in  her  blue 
chamber,  and  in  her  daily  thoughts  and  cares,  by  her 
new  guest,  Mr.  Touchwood ;  in  possessing  whom,  a 
deserter  as  he  was  from  the  Well,  she  obtained,  ac- 
cording to  her  view  of  the  matter,  a  decided  triumph 
over  her  rivals.     It  sometimes  required,  however,  the 


st.  ronan's  aa'ell.  243 

full  force  of  this  reflection,  to  induce  Meg,  old  and 
crabbed  as  she  was,  to  submit  to  the  various  caprices  and 
exactions  of  attention  which  were  displayed  by  her  new 
lodger.  Never  any  man  talked  so  much  as  Touchwood, 
of  his  habitual  indifference  to  food,  and  accommodation  in 
travelling  ;  and  probably  there  never  was  any  traveller 
who  gave  more  trouble  in  a  house  of  entertainment.  He 
had  his  own  whims  about  cookery  ;  and  when  these  were 
contradicted,  especially  if  he  felt  at  the  same  time  a 
twinge  of  incipient  gout,  one  would  have  thought  he  had 
taken  his  lessons  in  the  pastry-shop  of  Bedreddin  Hassan, 
and  was  ready  to  renew  the  scene  of  the  unhappy  cream- 
tart,  which  was  compounded  without  pepper.  Every  now 
and  then  he  started  some  new  doctrine  in  culinary  matters, 
which  Mrs.  Dods  deemed  a  heresy  ;  and  then  the  very 
house  rang  with  their  disputes.  Again,  his  bed  must 
necessarily  be  made  at  a  certain  angle  from  the  pillow  to 
the  foot-posts  ;  and  the  slightest  deviation  from  this  dis- 
turbed, he  said,  his  nocturnal  rest,  and  did  certainly  ruffle 
his  temper.  He  was  equally  whimsical  about  the  brush- 
ing of  his  clothes,  the  arrangement  of  the  furniture  in 
his  apartment,  and  a  thousand  minutiae,  which,  in  con- 
versation, he  seemed  totally  to  contemn. 

It  may  seem  singular,  but  such  is  the  inconsistency  of 
human  nature,  that  a  guest  of  this  fanciful  and  capricious 
disposition  gave  much  more  satisfaction  to  Mrs.  Dods, 
than  her  quiet  and  indifferent  friend,  Mr.  Tyrrel.  If  her 
present  lodger  could  blame,  he  could  also  applaud  ;  and 
no  artist,  conscious  of  such  skill  as  Mrs.  Dods  possessed, 
is  indifferent  to  the  praises  of  such  a  connoisseur  as  Mr. 
Touchwood.  The  pride  of  art  comforted  her  for  the 
additional  labour  ;  nor  was  it  a  matter  unworthy  of  this 
most  honest  publican's  consideration,  that  the  guests  who 


244  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

give  most  trouble,  are  usually  those  who  incur  the  largest 
bills,  and  pay  them  with  the  best  grace.  On  this  point 
Touchwood  was  a  jewel  of  a  customer.  He  never  denied 
himself  the  gratification  of  the  slightest  whim,  whatever 
expense  he  might  himself  incur,  or  whatever  trouble  he 
might  give  to  those  about  him ;  and  all  was  done  under 
protestation,  that  the  matter  in  question  was  the  most  in- 
different thing  to  him  in  the  world.  "  What  the  devil 
did  he  care  for  Burgess's  sauces,  he  that  had  eat  his 
kouscousou,  spiced  with  nothing  but  the  sand  of  the 
desert  ?  only  it  was  a  shame  for  Mrs.  Dods  to  be  without 
what  every  decent  house,  above  the  rank  of  an  alehouse, 
ought  to  be  largely  provided  with." 

In  short,  he  fussed,  fretted,  commanded,  and  was 
obeyed  ;  kept  the  house  in  hot  water,  and  yet  was  so 
truly  good-natured  when  essential  matters  were  in  discus- 
sion, that  it  was  impossible  to  bear  him  the  least  ill-will ; 
so  that  Mrs.  Dods,  though  in  a  moment  of  spleen  she 
sometimes  wished  him  at  the  top  of  Tintock,  always 
ended  by  singing  forth  his  praises.  She  could  not,  in- 
deed, help  suspecting  that  he  was  a  Nabob,  as  well  from 
his  conversation  about  foreign  parts,  as  from  his  freaks 
of  indulgence  to  himself,  and  generosity  to  others, — at- 
tributes, which  she  understood  to  be  proper  to  most 
"  Men  of  Ind."  But  although  the  reader  has  heard  her 
testify  a  general  dislike  to  this  species  of  Fortune's  fa- 
vourites, Mrs.  Dods  had  sense  enough  to  know,  that  a 
Nabob  living  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  raises  the  price 
of  eggs  and  poultry  upon  the  good  housewives  around, 
was  very  different  from  a  Nabob  residing  within  her  own 
gates,  drawing  all  his  supplies  from  her  own  larder,  and 
paying,  without  hesitation  or  question,  whatever  bills  her 
conscience  permitted  her  to  send  in.     In  short,  to  come 


st.  konan's  well.  245 

back  to  the  point  at  which  we  perhaps  might  have  stopped 
some  time  since,  landlady  and  guest  were  very  much 
pleased  with  each  other. 

But  Ennui  finds  entrance  into  every  scene,  when  the 
gloss  of  novelty  is  over ;  and  the  fiend  began  to  seize 
upon  Mr.  Touchwood  just  when  he  had  got  all  matters 
to  his  mind  in  the  Cleikum  Inn — had  instructed  Dame 
Dods  in  the  mysteries  of  curry  and  mullegatawny — ■ 
drilled  the  chambermaid  into  the  habit  of  making  his  bed 
at  the  angle  recommended  by  Sir  John  Sinclair — and 
made  some  progress  in  instructing  the  hump-backed 
postilion  in  the  Arabian  mode  of  grooming.  Pamphlets 
and  newspapers,  sent  from  London  and  from  Edinburgh 
by  loads,  proved  inadequate  to  rout  this  invader  of  Mr. 
Touchwood's  comforts ;  and,  at  last,  he  bethought  him- 
self of  company.  The  natural  resource  would  have  been 
the  Well — but  the  traveller  had  a  holy  shivering  of  awe, 
which  crossed  him  at  the  very  recollection  of  Lady  Pe- 
nelope, who  had  worked  him  rather  hard  during  his 
former  brief  residence  ;  and  although  Lady  Binks's  beauty 
might  have  charmed  an  Asiatic,  by  the  plump  graces  of 
its  contour,  our  senior  was  past  the  thoughts  of  a  Sultana 
and  a  haram.  At  length  a  bright  idea  crossed  his  mind, 
and  he  suddenly  demanded  of  Mrs.  Dods,  who  was 
pouring  out  his  tea  for  breakfast,  into  a  large  cup  of  a 
very  particular  species  of  china,  of  which  he  had  pre- 
sented her  with  a  service  on  condition  of  her  rendering 
him  this  personal  good  office, — 

"  Pray,  Mrs.  Dods,  what  sort  of  a  man  is  your  min- 
ister?" 

"  He's  just  a  man  like  other  men,  Mr.  Touchwood," 
replied  Meg  Dods  ;  "  what  sort  of  a  man  should  he  be  ?  " 

"  A  man  like  other  men  ? — ay — that  is  to  say,  he  has 


246  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

the  usual  complement  of  legs  and  arms,  eyes  and  ears — ■ 
But  is  he  a  sensihle  man  ?" 

"  No  muckle  o'  that,  sir,"  answered  Dame  Dods  ;  "  for 
if  he  was  drinking  this  very  tea  that  ye  gat  doun  from 
London  wi'  the  mail,  he  wad  mistake  it  for  common 
bohea." 

"  Then  he  has  not  all  his  organs — wants  a  nose,  or  the 
use  of  one  at  least,"  said  Mr.  Touchwood ;  "  the  tea  is 
right  gun-powder — a  perfect  nosegay/' 

"  Aweel,  that  may  be,"  said  the  landlady  ;  "  but  I  have 
gi'en  the  minister  a  dram  frae  my  ain  best  bottle  of  real 
Coniac  brandy,  and  may  I  never  stir  frae  the  bit,  if  he 
didna  commend  my  whisky  when  he  set  down  the  glass  ! 
There  is  no  ane  o'  them  in  the  Presbytery  but  himsell — 
ay,  or  in  the  Synod  either — but  wad  hae  kend  whisky 
frae  brandy." 

"  But  what  sort  of  man  is  he  ? — Has  he  learaing  ?  " 
demanded  Touchwood. 

"Learning? — aneugh  o'  that,"  answered  Meg;  "just 
dung  donnart  wi'  learning — lets  a'  things  about  the  Manse 
gang  whilk  gate  they  will,  sae  they  dinna  plague  him 
upon  the  score.  An  awfu'  thing  it  is  to  see  sic  an  111— 
red-up  house  !  If  I  had  the  twa  tawpies  that  sorn  upon 
the  honest  man  ae  week  under  my  drilling,  I  think  I  wad 
show  them  how  to  sort  a  lodsrin": ! " 

"  Does  he  preach  well  ?  "  asked  the  guest. 

"  O,  weel  aneugh,  weel  aneugh — sometimes  he  will 
fling  in  a  lang  word  or  a  bit  of  learning  that  our  farmers 
and  bannet  lairds  canna  sae  weel  follow — But  what  of 
that,  as  I  am  aye  telling  them  ? — them  that  pay  stipend 
get  aye  the  mair  for  their  siller." 

"  Does  he  attend  to  his  parish  ? — Is  he  kind  to  the 
poor  ?  " 


ST.    RONAN  S    WELL.  247 

"  Ower  muckle  o'  that,  Maister  Touchwood — I  am  sure 
he  makes  the  Word  gude,  and  turns  not  away  from  those 
that  ask  o'  him — his  very  pocket  is  picked  by  a  wheen 
ne'er-do-weel  blackguards,  that  gae  sorning  through  the 
country." 

"  Sorning  through  the  country,  Mrs.  Dods  ? — what 
would  you  think  if  you  had  seen  the  Fakirs,  the  Der- 
vises,  the  Bonzes,  the  Imaums,  the  monks,  and  the  men- 
dicants, that  I  have  seen  ? — But  go  on,  never  mind — 
Does  this  minister  of  yours  come  much  into  company  ?  " 

"  Company  ? — gae  wa',"  replied  Meg,  "  he  keeps  nae 
company  at  a',  neither  in  his  ain  house  or  ony  gate  else. 
He  comes  down  in  the  morning  in  a  lang  ragged  night- 
gown, like  a  potato  bogle,  and  down  he  sits  amang  his 
books  ;  and  if  they  dinna  bring  him  something  to  eat, 
the  puir  demented  body  has  never  the  heart  to  cry  for 
aught,  and  he  has  been  kend  to  sit  for  ten  hours  the- 
gither,  black  fasting,  whilk  is  a'  mere  papistrie,  though 
he  does  it  just  out  o'  forget." 

"  Why,  landlady,  in  that  case,  your  parson  is  any  thing 
but  the  ordinary  kind  of  man  you  described  him — Forget 
his  dinner  ! — the  man  must  be  mad — he  shall  dine  with 
me  to-day — he  shall  have  such  a  dinner  as  I'll  be  bound 
he  won't  forget  in  a  hurry." 

"  Ye'll  maybe  find  that  easier  said  than  dune,"  said 
Mrs.  Dods  ;  "  the  honest  man  hasna,  in  a  sense,  the  taste 
of  his  mouth — forby,  he  never  dines  out  of  his  ain  house 
— that  is,  when  he  dines  at  a' — A  drink  of  milk  and  a 
bit  of  bread  serves  his  turn,  or  maybe  a  cauld  potato. 
It's  a  heathenish  fashion  of  him,  for  as  good  a  man  as 
he  is  ;  for  surely  there  is  nae  Christian  man  but  loves 
his  own  bowels." 

"  Why,  that  may  be,"  answered  Touchwood ;  "  but  I 


248  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

have  known  many  who  took  so  much  care  of  their  own 
bowels,  my  good  dame,  as  to  have  none  for  any  one  else. 
But  come — bustle  to  the  work — get  us  as  good  a  dinner 
for  two  as  you  can  set  out — have  it  ready  at  three  to  an 
instant — set  the  old  hock  I  had  sent  me  from  Cockburn 
— a  bottle  of  the  particular  Indian  Sherry — and  another 
of  your  own  old  claret — fourth  binn,  you  know,  Meg. 
And  stay,  he  is  a  priest,  and  must  have  port — have  all 
ready,  but  don't  bring  the  wine  into  the  sun,  as  that  silly 
fool  Beck  did  the  other  day. — I  can't  go  down  to  the  lar- 
der myself,  but  let  us  have  no  blunders." 

"  Nae  fear,  nae  fear,"  said  Meg,  with  a  toss  of  the 
head,  "  I  need  naebody  to  look  into  my  larder  but  mysell, 
I  trow — but  it's  an  unco  order  of  wine  for  twa  folk,  and 
ane  o'  them  a  minister." 

"  Why,  you  foolish  person,  is  there  not  the  woman  up 
the  village  that  has  just  brought  another  fool  into  the 
world,  and  will  she  not  need  sack  and  caudle,  if  we  leave 
some  of  our  wine  ?  " 

"  A  gude  ale-posset  wad  set  her  better,"  said  Meg ; 
"  however,  if  it's  your  will,  it  shall  be  my  pleasure.  But 
the  like  of  sic  a  gentleman  as  yoursell  never  entered  my 
doors !  " 

The  traveller  was  gone  before  she  had  completed  the 
sentence ;  and,  leaving  Meg  to  bustle  and  maunder  at 
her  leisure,  away  he  marched  with  the  haste  that  charac- 
terised all  his  motions  when  he  had  any  new  project 
in  his  head,  to  form  an  acquaintance  with  the  minister 
of  St.  Ronan's,  whom,  while  he  walks  down  the  street 
to  the  Manse,  we  will  endeavour  to  introduce  to  the 
reader. 

The  Rev.  Josiah  Cargill  was  the  son  of  a  small  farmer 
in  the  south  of  Scotland ;  and  a  weak  constitution,  joined 


st.  ronan's  well.  249 

to  the  disposition  for  study  which  frequently  accompanies 
infirm  health,  induced  his  parents,  though  at  the  expense 
of  some  sacrifices,  to  educate  him  for  the  ministry.  They 
were  the  rather  led  to  submit  to  the  privations  which 
were  necessary  to  support  this  expense,  because  they 
conceived  from  their  family  traditions,  that  he  had  in 
his  veins  some  portion  of  the  blood  of  that  celebrated 
Boanerges  of  the  Covenant,  Donald  Cargill,  who  was 
slain  by  the  persecutors,  at  the  town  of  Queensferry,  in 
the  melancholy  days  of  Charles  II.,  merely  because  in 
the  plenitude  of  his  sacerdotal  power,  he  had  cast  out 
of  the  church,  and  delivered  over  to  Satan  by  a  formal 
excommunication,  the  King  and  Royal  family,  with  all 
the  ministers  and  courtiers  thereunto  belonging.  But  if 
Josiah  was  really  derived  from  this  uncompromising 
champion,  the  heat  of  the  family  spirit  which  he  might 
have  inherited  was  qualified  by  the  sweetness  of  his  own 
disposition,  and  the  quiet  temper  of  the  times  in  which 
he  had  the  good  fortune  to  live.  He  was  characterised 
by  all  who  knew  him  as  a  mild,  gentle,  and  studious  lover 
of  learning,  who,  in  the  quiet  prosecution  of  his  own  sole 
object,  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  especially  of 
that  connected  with  his  profession,  had  the  utmost  indul- 
gence for  all  whose  pursuits  were  different  from  his  own. 
His  sole  relaxations  were  those  of  a  gentle,  mild,  and 
pensive  temper,  and  were  limited  to  a  ramble,  almost 
always  solitary,  among  the  woods  and  hills,  in  praise  of 
which  he  was  sometimes  guilty  of  a  sonnet,  but  rather 
because  he  could  not  help  the  attempt,  than  as  proposing 
to  himself  the  fame  or  the  rewards  which  attend  the 
successful  poet.  Indeed,  far  from  seeking  to  insinuate 
his  fugitive  pieces  into  magazines  or  newspapers,  he 
blushed  at  his  poetical   attempts  even  while  alone,  and, 


250  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

in  fact,  was  rarely  so  indulgent  to  bis  vein  as  to  commit 
them  to  paper. 

From  the  same  maid-like  modesty  of  disposition,  our 
student  suppressed  a  strong  natural  turn  towards  dravvm  , 
although  he  was  repeatedly  complimented  upon  the  few 
sketches  which  he  made,  by  some  whose  judgment  was 
generally  admitted.  It  was,  however,  this  neglected 
talent,  which,  like  the  swift  feet  of  the  stag  in  the  fable, 
was  fated  to  render  him  a  service  which  he  might  in  vain 
have  expected  from  his  worth  and  learning. 

My  Lord  Bidmore,  a  distinguished  connoisseur,  chanced 
to  be  in  search  of  a  private  tutor  for  his  son  and  heir,  the 
Honourable  Augustus  Bidmore,  and  for  this  purpose  had 
consulted  the  Professor  of  Theology,  who  passed  before 
him  in  review  several  favourite  students,  any  of  whom 
he  conceived  well  suited  for  the  situation  ;  but  still  his 
answer  to  the  important  and  unlooked-for  question,  "  Did 
the  candidate  understand  drawing  ?  "  was  in  the  negative. 
The  Professor,  indeed,  added  his  opinion,  that  such  an 
accomplishment  was  neither  to  be  desired  nor  expected 
in  a  student  of  theology ;  but  pressed  hard  with  this  con- 
dition as  a  sine  qua  non,  he  at  length  did  remember  a 
dreaming  lad  about  the  Hall,  who  seldom  could  be  got  to 
speak  above  his  breath,  even  when  delivering  his  essays, 
but  was  said  to  have  a  strong  turn  for  drawing.  This 
was  enough  for  my  Lord  Bidmore,  who  contrived  to 
obtain  a  sight  of  some  of  young  Cargill's  sketches,  and 
was  satisfied  that,  under  such  a  tutor,  his  son  could  not 
fail  to  maintain  that  character  for  hereditary  taste  which 
his  father  and  grandfather  had  acquired  at  the  expense 
of  a  considerable  estate,  the  representative  value  of  which 
was  now  the  painted  canvas  in  the  great  gallery  at  Bid- 
more  House. 


ST.  ronan's  well.  251 

Upon  following  up  the  inquiry  concerning  the  young 
man's  character,  he  was  found  to  possess  all  the  other 
necessary  qualifications  of  learning  and  morals,  in  a 
greater  degree  than  perhaps  Lord  Bidmore  might  have 
required  ;  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  his  fellow-students, 
but  more  especially  to  his  owrn,  Josiah  Cargill  was  pro- 
moted to  the  desired  and  desirable  situation  of  private 
tutor  to  the  Honourable  Mr.  Bidmore. 

Mr.  Cargill  did  his  duty  ably  and  conscientiously,  by  a 
spoiled  though  good-humoured  lad,  of  weak  health  and 
very  ordinary  parts.  He  could  not,  indeed,  inspire  into 
him  any  portion  of  the  deep  and  noble  enthusiasm  which 
characterises  the  youth  of  genius ;  but  his  pupil  made 
such  progress  in  each  branch  of  his  studies  as  his  capacity 
enabled  him  to  attain.  He  understood  the  learned  lan- 
guages, and  could  be  very  profound  on  the  subject  of 
various  readings — he  pursued  science,  and  could  class 
shells,  pack  mosses,  and  arrange  minerals — he  drew  with- 
out taste,  but  with  much  accuracy  ;  and  although  he 
attained  no  commanding  height  in  any  pursuit,  he  knew 
enough  of  many  studies,  literary  and  scientific,  to  fill  up 
his  time,  and  divert  from  temptation  a  head,  which  was 
none  of  the  strongest  in  point  of  resistance. 

Miss  Augusta  Bidmore,  his  lordship's  only  other  child, 
received  also  the  instructions  of  Cargill  in  such  branches 
of  science  as  her  father  chose  she  should  acquire,  and  her 
tutor  was  capable  to  teach.  But  her  progress  was  as 
different  from  that  of  her  brother,  as  the  fire  of  heaven 
differs  from  that  grosser  element  which  the  peasant  piles 
upon  his  smouldering  hearth.  Her  acquirements  in 
Italian  and  Spanish  literature,  in  history,  in  drawing,  and 
in  all  elegant  learning,  were  such  as  to  enchant  her 
teacher,  while  at  the  same  time  it  kept  him  on  the  stretch, 


252  V\  AVERLEY    NOVELS. 

lest,  in  her  successful  career,  the  scholar  should  outstrip 
the  master- 
Alas  !  such  intercourse,  fraught  as  it  is  with  dangers 
arising  out  of  the  best  and  kindest,  as  well  as  the  most 
natural  feelings  on  either  side,  proved  in  the  present,  as 
in  many  other  instances,  fatal  to  the  peace  of  the  pre- 
ceptor. Every  feeling  heart  will  excuse  a  weakness, 
which  we  shall  presently  find  carried  with  it  its  own 
severe  punishment.  Cadenus,  indeed,  believe  him  who 
will,  has  assured  us,  that,  in  such  a  perilous  intercourse, 
he  himself  preserved  the  limits  which  were  unhappily 
transgressed  by  the  unfortunate  Vanessa,  his  more  im- 
passioned pupil : — 

''  The  innocent  delight  he  took 
To  see  the  virgin  mind  her  book, 
Was  but  the  master's  secret  joy, 
In  school  to  hear  the  finest  boy." 

But  Josiah  Cargill  was  less  fortunate,  or  less  cautious. 
He  suffered  his  fair  pupil  to  become  inexpressibly  dear 
to  him,  before  he  discovered  the  precipice  towards  which 
he  was  moving  under  the  direction  of  a  blind  and  mis- 
placed passion.  He  was  indeed  utterly  incapable  of 
availing  himself  of  the  opportunities  afforded  by  his 
situation,  to  involve  his  pupil  in  the  toils  of  a  mutual 
passion.  Honour  and  gratitude  alike  forbade  such  a  line 
of  conduct  even  had  it  been  consistent  with  the  natural 
bashfulness,  simplicity,  and  innocence  of  his  disposition. 
To  sigh  and  suffer  in  secret,  to  form  resolutions  of  sepa- 
rating himself  from  a  situation  so  fraught  with  danger, 
and  to  postpone  from  day  to  day  the  accomplishment  of  a 
resolution  so  prudent,  was  all  to  which  the  tutor  found 
himself  equal ;  and  it  is  not  improbable,  that  the  venera- 
tion with  which  he  regarded   his  patron's  daughter,  with 


ST.    ROXAx's    WELL.  253 

the  utter  hopelessness  of  the  passion  which  he  nourished, 
tended  to  render  his  love  yet  more  pure  and  disinterested. 

At  length  the  line  of  conduct  which  reason  had  long 
since  recommended,  could  no  longer  be  the  subject  of 
procrastination.  Mr.  Bidmore  was  destined  to  foreign 
travel  for  a  twelvemonth,  and  Mr.  Cargill  received  from 
his  patron  the  alternative  of  accompanying  his  pupil,  or 
retiring  upon  a  suitable  provision,  the  reward  of  his  past 
instructions.  It  can  hardly  be  doubted  which  he  pre- 
ferred ;  for  while  he  was  with  young  Bidmore,  he  did 
not  seem  entirely  separated  from  his  sister.  He  was 
sure  to  hear  of  Augusta  frequently,  and  to  see  some  part, 
at  least,  of  the  letters  which  she  was  to  write  to  her 
brother ;  he  might  also  hope  to  be  remembered  in  these 
letters  as  her  "  good  friend  and  tutor ; "  and  to  these 
consolations  his  quiet,  contemplative,  and  yet  enthusiastic 
disposition,  clung  as  to  a  secret  source  of  pleasure,  the 
only  one  which  life  seemed  to  open  to  him. 

But  fate  had  a  blow  in  store,  which  he  had  not  antici- 
pated. The  chance  of  Augusta  changing  her  maiden 
condition  for  that  of  a  wife,  probable  as  her  rank,  beauty, 
and  fortune  rendered  such  an  event,  had  never  once 
occurred  to  him ;  and  although  he  had  imposed  upon 
himself  the  unwavering  belief  that  she  never  could  be  his, 
he  was  inexpressibly  affected  by  the  intelligence  that  she 
had  become  the  property  of  another. 

The  honourable  Mr.  Bidmore's  letters  to  his  father 
soon  after  announced  that  poor  Mr.  Cargill  had  been 
seized  with  a  nervous  fever,  and  again,  that  his  recon- 
valescence  was  attended  with  so  much  debility,  it  seemed 
both  of  mind  and  body,  as  entirely  to  destroy  his  utility 
as  a  travelling  companion.  Shortly  after  this  the  travel- 
lers separated,  and  Cargill  returned  to  his  native  country 


254  WAVEULEY    NOVELS. 

alone,  indulging  upon  the  road  in  a  melancholy  abstrac- 
tion of  mind,  which  he  had  suffered  to  grow  upon  him 
since  the  menial  shock  which  lie  had  sustained,  and 
which  in  time  became  the  most  characteristical  feature  of 
his  demeanour.  His  meditations  were  not  even  disturbed 
by  any  anxiety  about  his  future  subsistence,  although  the 
cessation  of  his  employment  seemed  to  render  that  pre- 
carious. For  this,  however,  Lord  Bidmore  had  made 
provision  ;  for,  though  a  coxcomb  where  the  fine  arts 
were  concerned,  he  was  in  other  particulars  a  just  and 
honourable  man,  who  felt  a  sincere  pride  in  having  drawn 
the  talents  of  Cargill  from  obscurity,  and  entertained  due 
gratitude  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had  achieved  the 
important  task  intrusted  to  him  in  his  family. 

His  lordship  had  privately  purchased  from  the  Mow- 
bray family  the  patronage  or  advowson  of  the  living  of 
St.  Ronan's,  then  held  by  a  very  old  incumbent,  who  died 
shortly  afterwards  ;  so  that  upon  arriving  in  England  he 
found  himself  named  to  the  vacant  living.  So  indifferent, 
however,  did  Cargill  feel  himself  towards  this  preferment, 
that  he  might  possibly  not  have  taken  the  trouble  to  go 
through  the  necessary  steps  previous  to  his  ordination, 
had  it  not  been  on  account  of  his  mother,  now  a  widow, 
and  unprovided  for,  unless  by  the  support  which  he 
afforded  her.  He  visited  her  in  her  small  retreat  in  the 
suburbs  of  Marchthorn,  heard  her  pour  out  her  gratitude 
to  Heaven,  that  she  should  have  been  granted  life  long 
enough  to  witness  her  son's  pi-omotion  to  a  charge,  which, 
in  her  eyes,  was  more  honourable  and  desirable  than  an 
Episcopal  see — heard  her  chalk  out  the  life  which  they 
were  to  lead  together  in  the  humble  independence  which 
had  thus  fallen  on  him — he  heard  all  this,  and  had  no 
power  to  crush  her  hopes  and  her  triumph  by  the  indul- 


st.  ronan's  well.  255 

gence  of  his  own  romantic  feelings.  He  passed  almost 
mechanically  through  the  usual  forms,  and  was  inducted 
into  the  living  of  St.  Ronan's. 

Although  fanciful  and  romantic,  it  was  not  in  Josiah 
Cargill's  nature  to  yield  to  unavailing  melancholy  ;  yet  he 
sought  relief,  not  in  society,  hut  in  solitary  study.  His 
seclusion  was  the  more  complete,  that  his  mother,  whose 
education  had  been  as  much  confined  as  her  fortunes,  felt 
awkward  under  her  new  dignities,  and  willingly  acqui- 
esced in  her  son's  secession  from  society,  and  spent  her 
whole  time  in  superintending  the  little  household,  and  in 
her  way  providing  for  all  emergencies,  the  occurrence  of 
which  might  call  Josiah  out  of  his  favourite  book-room. 
As  old  age  rendered  her  inactive,  she  began  to  regret  the 
incapacity  of  her  son  to  superintend  his  own  household, 
and  talked  something  of  matrimony,  and  the  mysteries  of 
the  muckle  wheel.  To  these  admonitions  Mr.  Cargill 
returned  only  slight  and  evasive  answers  ;  and  when  the 
old  lady  slept  in  the  village  churchyard,  at  a  reverend  old 
age,  there  was  no  one  to  perform  the  office  of  superin- 
tendent in  the  minister's  family.  Neither  did  Josiah 
Cargill  seek  for  any,  but  patiently  submitted  to  all  the 
evils  with  which  a  bachelor  estate  is  attended,  and  which 
were  at  least  equal  to  those  which  beset  the  renowned 
Mago-Pico  during  his  state  of  celibacy.*     His  butter  was 

*  This  satire,  very  popular  even  in  Scotland,  at  least  with  one  party, 
■was  composed  at  the  expense  of  a  reverend  presbyterian  divine,  of 
whom  many  stories  are  preserved,  being  Mr.  Pyet,  the  Mago-Pico  of 
the  tale,  minister  of  Dunbar.  The  work  is  now  little  known  in  Scot- 
land, and  not  at  all  in  England,  though  written  with  much  strong  and 
coarse  humour,  resembling  the  style  of  Arbuthnot.  It  was  composed 
by  Mr.  Haliburton,  a  military  chaplain.  The  distresses  attending 
Mago-Pico's  bachelor  life,  are  thus  stated: — 

"  At  the  same  time  I  desire  you  will  only  figure  out  to  yourself 
his  situation  during  his  celibacy  in  the  ministerial  charge — a  house 


25G  AVAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

ill  churned,  and  declared  by  all  but  himself  and  the  quean 
who  made  it,  altogether  uneatable ;  his  milk  was  burnt  in 
the  pan,  his  fruit  and  vegetables  were  stolen,  and  his 
black  stockings  mended  with  blue  and  white  thread. 

For  all  these  things  the  minister  cared  not,  his  mind 
ever  bent  upon  far  different  matters.  Do  not  let  my  fair 
readers  do  Josiah  more  than  justice, #or  suppose  that,  like 
Beltenebros  in  the  desert,  he  remained  for  years,  the  vic- 
tim of  an  unfortunate  and  misplaced  passion.  No — to 
the  shame  of  the  male  sex  be  it  spoken,  that  no  degree 
of  hopeless  love,  however  desperate  and  sincere,  can  ever 
continue  for  years  to  imbitter  life.  There  must  be  hope 
— there  must  be  uncertainty — there  must  be  reciprocity, 
to  enable  the  tyrant  of  the  soul  to  secure  a  dominion  of 
very  long  duration  over  a  manly  and  well-constituted 
mind,  which  is  itself  desirous  to  will  its  freedom.  The 
memory  of  Augusta  had  long  faded  from  Josiah's  thoughts, 
or  was  remembered  only  as  a  pleasing,  but  melancholy 
and  unsubstantial  dream,  while  he  was  straining  forward 

lying  all  heaps  upon  heaps;  his  bed  ill-made,  swarming  with  fleas, 
and  very  cold  on  the  winter  nights;  his  sheep's-head  not  to  be  eaten 
for  wool  and  hair,  his  broth  singed,  his  bread  mouldy,  his  lamb  and 
pig  all  scouthered,  his  house  neither  washed  nor  plastered;  his  black 
stockings  darned  with  white  worsted  above  the  shoes;  his  butter  made 
into  cat's  harns;  his  cheese  one  heap  of  mites  and  maggots,  and  full 
of  large  avenues  for  rats  and  mice  to  play  at  hide-and-seek  and  make 
their  nests  in.  Frequent  were  the  admonitions  he  had  given  his 
maidservants  on  this  score,  and  every  now  and  then  he  was  turning 
them  off;  but  still  the  last  was  the  worst,  and  in  the  meanwhile  the 
poor  man  was  the  sufferer.  At  any  rate,  therefore,  matrimony  must 
turn  to  his  account,  though  his  wife  should  prove  to  be  nothing  but  a 
creatui'e  of  the  feminine  gender,  with  a  tongue  in  her  head,  and  ten 
fingers  on  her  hands,  to  clear  out  the  papers  of  the  housemaid,  not  to 
mention  the  convenience  of  a  man's  having  it  in  his  power  lawfully  to 
beget  sons  and  daughters  in  his  own  house." — Memoirs  of  Mago-Pico. 
Second  Edition.     Edinburgh,  1761,  p.  19. 


st.  ronan's  well.  257 

in  pursuit  of  a  yet  nobler  and  coyer  mistress,  in  a  word, 
of  Knowledge  herself. 

Every  hour  that  he  could  spare  from  his  parochial  du- 
ties, which  he  discharged  with  zeal  honourable  to  his  heart 
and  head,  was  devoted  to  his  studies,  and  spent  among  his 
books.  But  this  chase  of  wisdom,  though  in  itself  inter- 
esting and  dignified,  was  indulged  to  an  excess  which  di- 
minished the  respectability,  nay,  the  utility,  of  the  de- 
ceived student;  and  he  forgot,  amid  the  luxury  of  deep 
and  dark  investigations,  that  society  has  its  claims,  and 
that  the  knowledge  which  is  unimparted,  is  necessarily  a 
barren  talent,  and  is  lost  to  society,  like  the  miser's  con- 
cealed hoard,  by  the  death  of  the  proprietor.  His  studies 
were  also  under  the  additional  disadvantage,  that,  being 
pursued  for  the  gratification  of  a  desultory  longing  after 
knowledge,  and  directed  to  no  determined  object,  they 
turned  on  points  rather  curious  than  useful,  and  while 
they  served  for  the  amusement  of  the  student  himself, 
promised  little  utility  to  mankind  at  large. 

Bewildered  amid  abstruse  researches,  metaphysical  and 
historical,  Mr.  Cargill,  living  only  for  himself  and  his 
books,  acquired  many  ludicrous  habits,  which  exposed  the 
secluded  student  to  the  ridicule  of  the  world,  and  which 
tinged,  though  they  did  not  altogether  obscure,  the  natu- 
ral civility  of  an  amiable  disposition,  as  well  as  the  ac- 
quired habits  of  politeness  which  he  had  learned  in  the 
good  society  that  frequented  Lord  Bidmore's  mansion. 
He  not  only  indulged  in  neglect  of  dress  and  appearance, 
and  all  those  ungainly  tricks,  which  men  are  apt  to  ac- 
quire by  living  very  much  alone,  but  besides,  and  espe- 
cially, he  became  probably  the  most  abstracted  and  absent 
man  of  a  profession  peculiarly  liable  to  cherish  such  hab- 
its. No  man  fell  so  regularly  into  the  painful  dilemma 
vol.  xxxiii.  17 


258  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

of  mistaking,  or,  in  Scottish  phrase,  miskenning,  the  per- 
son he  spoke  to,  or  more  frequently  inquired  of  an  old 
maid  for  her  husband,  of  a  childless  wife  about  her 
young  people,  of  the  distressed  widower  for  the  spouse  at 
whose  funeral  he  himself  had  assisted  but  a  fortnight  be- 
fore ;  and  none  was  ever  more  familiar  with  strangers 
whom  he  had  never  seen,  or  seemed  more  estranged  from 
those  who  had  a  title  to  think  themselves  well  known  to 
him.  The  worthy  man  perpetually  confounded  sex,  age, 
and  calling ;  and  when  a  blind  beggar  extended  his  hand 
for  charity,  he  has  been  known  to  return  the  civility  by 
taking  off  his  hat,  making  a  low  bow,  and  hoping  his 
worship  was  well. 

Among  his  brethren,  Mr.  Cargill  alternately  com- 
manded respect  by  the  depth  of  his  erudition,  and  gave 
occasion  to  laughter  from  his  odd  peculiarities.  On  the 
latter  occasions  he  used  abruptly  to  withdraw  from  the 
ridicule  he  had  provoked  ;  for  notwithstanding  the  gen- 
eral mildness  of  his  character,  his  solitary  habits  had 
engendered  a  testy  impatience  of  contradiction,  and  a 
keener  sense  of  pain  arising  from  the  satire  of  others, 
than  was  natural  to  his  unassuming  disposition.  As  for 
his  parishioners,  they  enjoyed,  as  may  reasonably  be  sup- 
posed, many  a  hearty  laugh  at  their  pastor's  expense,  and 
were  sometimes,  as  Mrs.  Dods  hinted,  more  astonished 
than  edified  by  his  learning ;  for  in  pursuing  a  point  of 
biblical  criticism,  he  did  not  altogether  remember  that  he 
wras  addressing  a  popular  and  unlearned  assembly,  not 
delivering  a  concio  ad  clerum — a  mistake,  not  arising 
from  any  conceit  of  his  learning,  or  wish  to  display  it, 
but  from  the  same  absence  of  mind  which  induced  an  ex- 
cellent divine,  when  preaching  before  a  party  of  criminals 
condemned    to    death,   to   break   off"    by    promising   the 


ST.    ROXAX'S    WELL.  259 

wretches,  who  were  to  suffer  next  morning,  "  the  rest  of 
the  discourse  at  the  first  proper  opportunity."  But  all 
the  neighbourhood  acknowledged  Mr.  Cargill's  serious 
and  devout  discharge  of  his  ministerial  duties ;  and  the 
poorer  parishioners  forgave  his  innocent  peculiarities,  in 
consideration  of  his  unbounded  charity ;  while  the  heri- 
tors, if  they  ridiculed  the  abstractions  of  Mr.  Cargill  on 
some  subjects,  had  the  grace  to  recollect  that  they  had 
prevented  him  from  suing  an  augmentation  of  stipend, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  the  clergy  around  him,  or  from 
demanding  at  their  hands  a  new  manse,  or  the  repair  of 
the  old  one.  He  once,  indeed,  wished  that  they  would 
amend  the  roof  of  his  book  room,  which  "  rained  in,"  * 
in  a  very  pluvious  manner ;  but  receiving  no  direct  answer 
from  our  friend  Meiklewham,  who  neither  relished  the 
proposal  nor  saw  means  of  eluding  it,  the  minister  qui- 
etly made  the  necessary  repairs  at  his  own  expense,  and 
gave  the  heritors  no  farther  trouble  on  the  subject. 

Such  was  the  worthy  divine  whom  our  bon  vivant  at 
the  Cleikum  Inn  hoped  to  conciliate  by  a  good  dinner  and 
Cockburn's  particular ;  an  excellent  menstruum  in  most 
cases,  but  not  likely  to  be  very  efficacious  on  the  present 
occasion. 

*  Scollice,  for  "  admitted  the  rain." 


260  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    ACQUAINTANCE. 


'Twist  us  thug  the  difference  trims: — 
Using  head  instead  of  limbs, 

You  have  read  what  I  have  seen ; 
Using  limbs  instead  of  head, 
I  have  seen  what  you  have  read — 

Which  way  does  the  balance  lean? 

Butler. 


Our  traveller,  rapid  in  all  his  resolutions  and  motions, 
strode  stoutly  down  the  street,  and  arrived  at  the  Manse, 
which  was,  as  we  have  already  described  it,  all  but  abso- 
lutely ruinous.  The  total  desolation  and  want  of  order 
about  the  door  would  have  argued  the  place  uninhabited, 
had  it  not  been  for  two  or  three  miserable  tubs  with  suds, 
or  such  like  sluttish  contents,  which  were  left  there,  that 
those  who  broke  their  shins  among  them  might  receive  a 
sensible  proof,  that  "  here  the  hand  of  woman  had  been." 
The  door  being  half  ofT  its  hinges,  the  entrance  was  for 
the  time  protected  by  a  broken  harrow,  which  must  nec- 
essarily be  removed  before  entry  could  be  obtained.  The 
little  garden  which  might  have  given  an  air  of  comfort  to 
the  old  house  had  it  been  kept  in  any  order,  was  aban- 
doned to  a  desolation,  of  which  that  of  the  sluggard  was 
only  a  type  ;  and  the  minister's  man,  an  attendant  always 
proverbial  for  doing  half  work,  and  who  seemed  in  the 


ST.  ronan's  well.  261 

present  instance  to  do  none,  was  seen  among  docks  and 
nettles,  solacing  himself  with  the  few  gooseberries  which 
remained  on  some  moss-grown  bushes.  To  him  Mr. 
Touchwood  called  loudly,  inquiring  after  his  master ;  but 
the  clown,  conscious  of  being  taken  in  flagrant  delict,  as 
the  law  says,  fled  from  him  like  a  guilty  thing,  instead  of 
obeying  his  summons,  and  was  soon  heard  hupping  and 
geeing  to  the  cart,  which  he  had  left  on  the  other  side  of 
the  broken  wall. 

Disappointed  in  his  application  to  the  man-servant, 
Mr.  Touchwood  knocked  with  his  cane,  at  first  gently, 
then  harder,  hollowed,  bellowed,  and  shouted,  in  the  hope 
of  calling  the  attention  of  some  one  within  doors,  but 
received  not  a  word  in  reply.  At  length,  thinking  that 
no  trespass  could  be  committed  upon  so  forlorn  and  de- 
serted an  establishment,  he  removed  the  obstacles  to 
entrance  with  such  a  noise  as  he  thought  must  neces- 
sarily have  alarmed  some  one,  if  there  was  any  live 
person  about  the  house  at  all.  All  was  still  silent ;  and, 
entering  a  passage  where  the  damp  walls  and  broken 
flags  corresponded  to  the  appearance  of  things  out  of 
doors,  he  opened  a  door  to  the  left,  which,  wonderful  to 
say,  still  had  a  latch  remaining,  and  found  himself  in  the 
parlour,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  person  whom  he  came 
to  visit. 

Amid  a  heap  of  books  and  other  literary  lumber, 
which  had  accumulated  around  him,  sat,  in  his  well-worn 
leathern  elbow-chair,  the  learned  minister  of  St.  Ronan's  ; 
a  thin,  spare  man,  beyond  the  middle  age,  of  a  dark  com- 
plexion, but  with  eyes  which,  though  now  obscured  and 
vacant,  had  been  once  bright,  soft,  and  expressive,  and 
whose  features  seemed  interesting,  the  rather  that,  not- 
with>tanding  the  carelessness  of  his  dress,  he  was  in  the 


262  WAVERLET    NOVELS. 

habit  of  performing  his  ablutions  with  Eastern  precision  ; 
for  he  had  forgot  neatness,  but  not  cleanliness.  His  hair 
might  have  appeared  much  more  disorderly,  had  it. not 
been  thinned  by  time,  and  disposed  chiefly  around  the 
sides  of  his  countenance  and  the  back  part  of  his  head ; 
black  stockings,  ungartered,  marked  his  professional  dress, 
and  his  feet  were  thrust  into  the  old  slip-shod  shoes,  which 
served  him  instead  of  slippers.  The  rest  of  his  gar- 
ments, so  far  as  visible,  consisted  in  a  plaid  nightgown 
wrapt  in  long  folds  round  his  stooping  and  emaciated 
length  of  body,  and  reaching  down  to  the  slippers  afore- 
said. He  was  so  intently  engaged  in  studying  the  book 
before  him,  a  folio  of  no  ordinary  bulk,  that  he  totally 
disregarded  the  noise  which  Mr.  Touchwood  made  in  en- 
tering the  room,  as  well  as  the  coughs  and  hems  with 
which  he  thought  it  proper  to  announce  his  presence. 

No  notice  being  taken  of  these  inarticulate  signals,  Mr. 
Touchwood,  however  great  an  enemy  he  was  to  ceremony, 
saw  the  necessity  of  introducing  his  business,  as  an 
apology  for  his  intrusion. 

"  Hem !  sir — Ha,  hem ! — You  see  before  you  a  person 
in  some  distress  for  want  of  society,  who  has  taken  the 
liberty  to  call  on  you  as  a  good  pastor,  who  may  be,  in 
Christian  charity,  willing  to  afford  him  a  little  of  your 
company,  since  he  is  tired  of  his  own." 

Of  this  speech  Mr.  Cargill  only  understood  the  words 
"  distress  "  and  "  charity,"  sounds  with  which  he  was  well 
acquainted,  and  which  never  failed  to  produce  some  effect 
on  him.  He  looked  at  his  visitor  with  lack-lustre  eye,  and 
without  correcting  the  first  opinion  which  he  had  formed, 
although  the  stranger's  plump  and  sturdy  frame,  as  well 
as  his  nicely-brushed  coat,  glancing  cane,  and,  above  all, 
his  upright  and   self-satisfied  manner,  resembled  in  no 


st.  ronan's  well.  2G3 

respect  the  dress,  form,  or  bearing  of  a  mendicant,  he 
quietly  thrust  a  shilling  into  his  hand,  and  relapsed  into 
the  studious  contemplation  which  the  entrance  of  Touch- 
wood had  interrupted. 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  good  sir,"  said  his  visitor,  sur- 
prised at  a  degree  of  absence  of  mind  which  he  could 
hardly  have  conceived  possible,  "  you  have  entirely  mis- 
taken my  object." 

"  I  am  sorry  my  mite  is  insufficient,  my  friend,"  said 
the  clergyman,  without  again  raising  his  eyes,  "  it  is  all  I 
have  at  present  to  bestow." 

"  If  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  look  up  for  a  mo- 
ment, my  good  sir,"  said  the  traveller,  "  you  may  possibly 
perceive  that  you  labour  under  a  considerable  mistake." 

Mr.  Cargill  raised  his  head,  recalled  his  attention,  and, 
seeing  that  he  had  a  well-dressed,  respectable-looking 
person  before  him,  he  exclaimed  in  much  confusion,  "  Ha  ! 
— yes — on  my  word,  I  was  so  immersed  in  my  book — I 
believe — I  think  I  have  the  pleasure  to  see  my  worthy 
friend,  Mr.  Lavender  ?  " 

"  No  such  thing,  Mr.  Cargill,"  replied  Mr.  Touchwood. 
"  I  will  save  you  the  trouble  of  trying  to  recollect  me — 
you  never  saw  me  before. — But  do  not  let  me  disturb 
your  studies — I  am  in  no  hurry,  and  my  business  can 
wait  your  leisure." 

"  I  am  much  obliged,"  said  Mr.  Cargill ;  "  have  the 
goodness  to  take  a  chair,  if  you  can  find  one — I  have  a 
train  of  thought  to  recover — a  slight  calculation  to  finish 
— and  then  I  am  at  your  command." 

The  visitor  found  among  the  broken  furniture,  not 
without  difficulty,  a  seat  strong  enough  to  support  his 
weight,  and  sat  down,  resting  upon  liis  cane,  and  looking 
attentively  at  his  host,  who  very  soon  became  totally  in- 


264  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

sensible  of  his  presence.  A  long  pause  of  total  silence 
ensued,  only  disturbed  by  the  rustling  leaves  of  the  folio 
from  which  Mr.  Cargill  seemed  to  be  making  extracts, 
and  now  and  then  by  a  little  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
impatience,  when  he  dipped  his  pen,  as  happened  once  or 
twice,  into  his  snuff-box,  instead  of  the  ink-standish  which 
stood  beside  it.  At  length,  just  as  Mr.  Touchwood  began 
to  think  the  scene  as  tedious  as  it  was  singular,  the  ab- 
stracted student  raised  his  head,  and  spoke  as  if  in  solilo- 
quy, "  From  Aeon,  Accor,  or  St.  John  d'Acre,  to  Jerusa- 
lem, how  far?" 

"  Twenty -three  miles  north  north-west,"  answered  his 
visitor,  without  hesitation. 

Mr.  Cargill  expressed  no  more  surprise  at  a  question 
which  he  had  put  to  himself  being  answered  by  the  voice 
of  another,  than  if  he  had  found  the  distance  on  the  map, 
and,  indeed,  was  not  probably  aware  of  the  medium 
through  which  his  question  had  been  solved ;  and  it  was 
the  tenor  of  the  answer  alone  which  he  attended  to  in 
his  reply. — "  Twenty-three  miles — Ingulphus,"  laying  his 
hand  on  the  volume,  "  and  Jeffrey  Winesauf  do  not  agree 
in  this." 

"  They  may  both  be  d — d,  then,  for  lying  blockheads," 
answered  the.  traveller. 

"  You  might  have  contradicted  their  authority,  sir,  with- 
out using  such  an  expression,"  said  the  divine,  gravely. 

"  I  cry  you  mercy,  Doctor,"  said  Mr.  Touchwood ; 
"  but  would  you  compare  these  parchment  fellows  with 
me,  that  have  made  my  legs  my  compasses  over  great 
part  of  the  inhabited  world  ?  " 

"  You  have  been  in  Palestine,  then  ? "  said  Mr.  Car- 
gill, drawing  himself  upright  in  his  chair,  and  speaking 
with  eagerness  and  with  interest. 


st.  roxan's  well.  265 

"  You  may  swear  that,  Doctor,  and  at  Acre  too.  Why, 
I  was  there  the  month  after  Boney  had  found  it  too  hard 
a  nut  to  crack. — I  dined  with  Sir  Sydney's  chum,  old 
Djezzar  Pacha,  and  an  excellent  dinner  we  had,  but  for 
a  dessert  of  noses  and  ears  brought  on  after  the  last 
remove,  which  spoiled  my  digestion.  Old  Djezzar  thought 
it  so  good  a  joke,  that  you  hardly  saw  a  man  in  Acre 
whose  face  was  not  as  flat  as  the  palm  of  my  hand — Gad, 
I  respect  my  olfactory  organ,  and  set  off  the  next  morn- 
ing as  fast  as  the  most  cursed  hard-trotting  dromedary 
that  ever  fell  to  poor  pilgrim's  lot  could  contrive  to 
tramp." 

"  If  you  have  really  been  in  the  Holy  Land,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Cargill,  whom  the  reckless  gaiety  of  Touchwood's 
manner  rendered  somewhat  suspicious  of  a  trick,  "  you 
will  be  able  materially  to  enlighten  me  on  the  subject 
of  the  Crusades." 

"  They  happened  before  my  time,  Doctor,"  replied  the 
traveller. 

"  You  are  to  understand  that  my  curiosity  refers  to  the 
geography  of  the  countries  where  these  events  took 
place,"  answered  Mr.  Cargill. 

••  O  !  as  to  that  matter,  you  are  lighted  on  your  feet," 
said  Mr.  Touchwood  ;  "  for  the  time  present  I  can  fit 
you.  Turk,  Arab,  Copt,  and  Druse,  I  know  every  one 
of  them,  and  can  make  you  as  well  acquainted  with  them 
as  myself.  Without  stirring  a  step  beyond  your  thresh- 
old, you  shall  know  Syria  as  well  as  I  do. — But  one  good 
turn  deserves  another — in  that  case,  you  must  have  the 
goodness  to  dine  with  me." 

"  I  go  seldom  abroad,  sir,"  said  the  minister,  with  a 
good  deal  of  hesitation,  for  his  habits  of  solitude  and 
seclusion   could  not   be   entirely  overcome,  even  by  the 


2G6  WAVEKLEY    NOVELS. 

expectation  raised  by  the  traveller's  discourse ;  "  yet  I 
cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  waiting  on  a  gentle- 
man possessed  of  so  much  experience." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Touchwood,  "  three  be  the 
hour — I  never  dine  later,  and  always  to  a  minute — and 
the  place,  the  Cleikum  Inn,  up  the  way ;  where  Mrs. 
Dods  is  at  this  moment  busy  in  making  ready  such  a 
dinner  as  your  learning  has  seldom  seen,  Doctor,  for  I 
brought  the  receipts  from  the  four  different  quarters  of 
the  globe." 

Upon  tins  treaty  they  parted ;  and  Mr.  Cargill,  after 
musing  for  a  short  while  upon  the  singular  chance  which 
had  sent  a  living  man  to  answer  those  doubts,  for  which 
he  was  in  vain  consulting  ancient  authorities,  at  length 
resumed,  by  degrees,  the  train  of  reflection  and  investiga- 
tion which  Mr.  Touchwood's  visit  had  interrupted,  and  in 
a  short  time  lost  all  recollection  of  his  episodical  visitor, 
and  of  the  engagement  which  he  had  formed. 

Not  so  Mr.  Touchwood,  who,  when  not  occupied  with 
business  of  real  importance,  had  the  art,  as  the  reader 
may  have  observed,  to  make  a  prodigious  fuss  about 
nothing  at  all.  Upon  the  present  occasion,  he  bustled  in 
and  out  of  the  kitchen,  till  Mrs.  Dods  lost  patience,  and 
threatened  to  pin  the  dishclout  to  his  tail ;  a  menace 
which  he  pardoned,  in  consideration,  that  in  all  the 
countries  which  he  had  visited,  which  are  sufficiently 
civilized  to  boast  of  cooks,  these  artists,  toiling  in  their 
fiery  element,  have  a  privilege  to  be  testy  and  impatient. 
He  therefore  retreated  from  the  torrid  region  of  Mrs. 
Dods's  microcosm,  and  employed  his  time  in  the  usual 
devices  of  loiterers,  partly  by  walking  for  an  appetite, 
partly  by  observing  the  progress  of  his  watch  towards 
three  o'clock,  when  he  had  happily  succeeded  in  getting 


ST.    ROXAN  S    WELL.  267 

an  employment  more  serious.  His  table,  in  the  blue 
parlour,  was  displayed  with  two  covers,  after  the  fairest 
fashion  of  the  Cleikum  Inn ;  yet  the  landlady,  with  a 
look  "  civil  but  sly,"  contrived  to  insinuate  a  doubt 
whether  the  clergyman  would  come,  "  when  a'  was 
dune." 

Mr.  Touchwood  scorned  to  listen  to  such  an  insinuation 
until  the  fated  hour  arrived,  and  brought  with  it  no  Mr. 
Cargill.  The  impatient  entertainer  allowed  five  minutes 
for  difference  of  clocks,  and  variation  of  time,  and  other 
five  for  the  procrastination  of  one  who  went  little  into 
society.  But  no  sooner  were  the  last  five  minutes  ex- 
pended than  he  darted  off  for  the  Manse,  not,  indeed, 
much  like  a  greyhouud  or  a  deer,  but  with  the  momentum 
of  a  corpulent  and  well-appetized  elderly  gentleman,  who 
is  in  haste  to  secure  his  dinner.  He  bounced  without 
ceremony  into  the  parlour,  where  he  found  the  worthy 
divine  clothed  in  the  same  plaid  nightgown,  and  seated 
in  the  very  elbow-chair,  in  which  he  had  left  him 
five  hours  before.  His  sudden  entrance  recalled  to  Mr. 
Cargill,  not  an  accurate,  but  something  of  a  general  re- 
collection, of  what  had  passed  in  the  morning,  and  he 
hastened  to  apologize  with  "  Ha  ! — indeed — already  ? — 
upon  my  word,  Mr.  A — a — ,  I  mean  my  dear  friend — I 
am  afraid  I  have  used  you  ill — I  forgot  to  order  any 
dinner — but  we  will  do  our  best. — Eppie — Eppie  !  " 

Not  at  the  first,  second,  nor  third  call,  but  ex  intervallo, 
as  the  lawyers  express  it,  Eppie,  a  bare-legged,  shock- 
headed,  thick-ankled,  red-armed  wench,  entered,  and  an- 
nounced her  presence  by  an  emphatic  "  what's  your 
wull  ?  " 

"  Have  you  got  any  thing  in  the  house  for  dinner, 
Eppie  ?  " 


2G8  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

"  Naething  but  bread  and  milk,  plenty  o't — what  should 
I  have  ?  " 

"  You  see,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Cargill,  "  you  are  like  to 
have  a  Pythagorean  entertainment ;  but  you  are  a  travel- 
ler, and  have  doubtless  been  in  your  time  thankful  for 
bread  and  milk." 

"  But  never  when  there  was  any  thing  better  to  be 
had,"  said  Mr.  Touchwood.  "  Come,  Doctoi*,  I  beg  your 
pardon,  but  your  wits  are  fairly  gone  a  wool-gathering  ; 
it  was  /invited  you  to  dinner,  up  at  the  Inn  yonder,  not 
you  me." 

"  On  my  word,  and  so  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Cargill ;  "  I 
knew  I  was  quite  right — I  knew  there  was  a  dinner 
engagement  betwixt  us,  I  was  sure  of  that,  and  that  is 
the  main  point. — Come,  sir,  I  wait  upon  you." 

"  Will  you  not  first  change  your  dress  ? "  said  the 
visitor,  seeing  with  astonishment  that  the  divine  proposed 
to  attend  him  in  his  plaid  nightgown ;  "  why,  we  shall 
have  all  the  boys  in  the  village  after  us — you  will  look 
like  an  owl  in  sunshine,  and  they  will  flock  round  you 
like  so  many  hedge-sparrows." 

"  I  will  get  my  clothes  instantly,"  said  the  worthy 
clergyman  ;  "  I  will  get  ready  directly — I  am  really 
ashamed  to  keep  you  waiting,  my  dear  Mr. — eh — eh — 
your  name  has  this  instant  escaped  me." 

"  It  is  Touchwood,  sir,  at  your  service ;  I  do  not 
believe  you  ever  heard  it  before,"  answered  the  trav- 
eller. 

"  True — right — no  more  I  have — well,  my  good  Mr. 
Touchstone,  will  you  sit  down  an  instant  until  we  see 
what  we  can  do  ? — strange  slaves  we  make  ourselves  to 
these  bodies  of  ours,  Mr.  Touchstone — the  clothing  and 
the  sustaining  of  them  costs  us  much  thought  and  leisure, 


ST.    RONAN'S    WELL.  269 

which  might  be  better  employed  in  catering  for  the  wants 
of  our  immortal  spirits." 

Mr.  Touchwood  thought  in  his  heart  that  never  had 
Bramin  or  Gymnosophist  less  reason  to  reproach  him- 
self with  excess  in  the  indulgence  of  the  table,  or  of  the 
toilette,  than  the  sage  before  him ;  but  he  assented  to  the 
doctrine,  as  he  would  have  done  to  any  minor  heresy, 
rather  than  protract  matters  by  farther  discussing  the 
point  at  present.  In  a  short  time  the  minister  was 
dressed  in  his  Sunday's  suit,  without  any  farther  mistake 
than  turning  one  of  his  black  stockings  inside  out ;  and 
Mr.  Touchwood,  happy  as  was  Boswell  when  he  carried 
off  Dr.  Johnson  in  triumph  to  dine  with  Strahan  and 
John  Wilkes,  had  the  pleasure  of  escorting  him  to  the 
Cleikum  Inn. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  they  became  more 
familiar,  and  the  familiarity  led  to  their  forming  a  con- 
siderable estimate  of  each  other's  powers  and  acquire- 
ments. It  is  true,  the  traveller  thought  the  student  too 
pedantic,  too  much  attached  to  systems,  which,  formed  in 
solitude,  he  was  unwilling  to  renounce,  even  when  con- 
tradicted by  the  voice  and  testimony  of  experience  ;  and, 
moreover,  considered  his  utter  inattention  to  the  quality 
of  what  he  ate  and  drank,  as  unworthy  of  a  rational,  that 
is,  of  a  cooking  creature,  or  of  a  being  who,  as  defined  by 
Johnson,  holds  his  dinner  as  the  most  important  business 
of  the  day.  Cargill  did  not  act  up  to  this  definition,  and 
was,  therefore,  in  the  eyes  of  his  new  acquaintance,  so 
far  ignorant  and  uncivilized.  What  then  ?  He  was  still 
a  sensible,  intelligent  man,  however  abstemious  and 
bookish. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  divine  could  not  help  regarding 
his  new  friend  as  something  of  an  epicure  or  belly-god, 


270  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

nor  could  he  observe  in  him  either  the  perfect  education, 
or  the  polished  bearing,  which  mark  the  gentleman  of 
rank,  and  of  which,  while  he  mingled  with  the  world,  he 
had  become  a  competent  judge.  Neither  did  it  escape 
him,  that  in  the  catalogue  of  Mr.  Touchwood's  defects, 
occurred  that  of  many  travellers,  a  slight  disposition  to 
exaggerate  his  own  personal  adventures,  and  to  prose 
concerning  his  own  exploits.  But  then,  his  acquaintance 
with  Eastern  manners,  existing  now  in  the  same  state  in 
which  they  were  found  during  the  time  of  the  Crusades, 
formed  a  living  commentary  on  the  works  of  William  of 
Tyre,  Raymund  of  Saint  Giles,  the  Moslem  annals  of 
Abulfaragi,  and  other  historians  of  the  dark  period,  with 
which  his  studies  were  at  present  occupied. 

A  friendship,  a  companionship  at  least,  was  therefore 
struck  up  hastily  betwixt  these  two  originals ;  and  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  whole  parish  of  St.  Ronan's,  the 
minister  thereof  was  seen  once  more  leagued  and  united 
with  an  individual  of  his  species,  generally  called  among 
them  the  Cleikum  Nabob.  Their  intercourse  sometimes 
consisted  in  long  walks,  which  they  took  in  company, 
traversing,  however,  as  limited  a  space  of  ground,  as  if  it 
had  been  actually  roped  in  for  their  pedestrian  exercise. 
Their  parade  was,  according  to  circumstances,  a  low 
haugh  at  the  nether  end  of  the  ruinous  hamlet,  or  the 
esplanade  in  front  of  the  old  castle  ;  and,  in  either  case, 
the  direct  longitude  of  their  promenade  never  exceeded  a 
hundred  yards.  Sometimes,  but  rarely,  the  divine  took 
share  of  Mr.  Touchwood's  meal,  though  less  splendidly 
set  forth  than  when  he  was  first  invited  to  partake  of  it; 
for,  like  the  unostentatious  owner  of  the  gold  cup  in 
Parnell's  Hermit, 

"  Still  he  welcomed,  but  with  less  of  cost." 


st.  ronan's  well.  271 

On  these  occasions,  the  conversation  was  not  of  the 
regular  and  compacted  nature  which  passes  betwixt  men, 
as  they  are  ordinarily  termed,  of  this  world.  On  the 
contrary,  the  one  party  was  often  thinking  of  Saladin  and 
Coeur  de  Lion,  when  the  other  was  haranguing  on  Hyder 
Ali  and  Sir  Eyre  Coote.  Still,  however,  the  one  spoke, 
and  the  other  seemed  to  listen  ;  and,  perhaps,  the  lighter 
intercourse  of  society,  where  amusement  is  the  sole 
object,  can  scarcely  rest  on  a  safer  and  more  secure 
basis. 

It  was  on  one  of  the  evenings  when  the  learned  divine 
had  taken  his  place  at  Mr.  Touchwood's  social  board,  or 
rather  at  Mrs.  Dods's, — for  a  cup  of  excellent  tea,  the 
only  luxury  which  Mr.  Cargill  continued  to  partake  of 
with  some  complacence,  was  the  regale  before  them — 
that  a  card  was  delivered  to  the  Nabob. 

"  Mr.  and  Miss  Mowbray  see  company  at  Shaws-Castle 
on  the  twentieth  current,  at  two  o'clock — dejeuner — 
dresses  in  character  admitted — A  dramatic  picture." — 
"  See  company  ?  the  more  fools  they,"  he  continued, 
by  way  of  comment.  "  See  company  ? — choice  phrases 
are  ever  commendable — and  this  piece  of  pasteboard  is 
to  intimate  that  one  may  go  and  meet  all  the  fools  of  the 
parish,  if  they  have  a  mind — in  my  time  they  asked  the 
honour,  or  the  pleasure,  of  a  stranger's  company.  I  sup- 
pose, by  and  by,  we  shall  have  in  this  country  the  cere- 
monial of  a  Bedouin's  tent,  where  every  ragged  Hadgi, 
with  his  green  turban,  comes  in  slap  without  leave  asked, 
and  lias  his  black  paw  among  the  rice,  with  no  other 
apology  than  Salam  Alicum. — '  Dresses  in  character — 
Dramatic  picture  ' — what  new  tomfoolery  can  that  be  ? — 
but  it  does  not  signify. — Doctor  !  I  say,  Doctor  ! — but  he 
is  in  the  seventh  heaven — I  say,  Mother  Dods,  you  who 


272  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

know  all  the  news — Is  this  the  feast  that  was  put  off 
until  Miss  Mowbray  should  be  better?" 

"Troth  is  it,  Maister  Touchwood — they  ai'e  no  in  the 
way  of  giving  twa  entertainments  in  one  season — no  very 
wise  to  gie  ane  maybe — but  they  ken  best." 

"  I  say,  Doctor,  Doctor ! — Bless  his  five  wits,  he  is 
charging  the  Moslemah  with  stout  King  Richard — I  say, 
Doctor,  do  you  know  any  thing  of  these  Mowbrays  ?  " 

"  Nothing  extremely  particular,"  answered  Mr.  Cargill, 
after  a  pause ;  "  it  is  an  ordinary  tale  of  greatness,  which 
blazes  in  one  century,  and  is  extinguished  in  the  next. 
I  think  Camden  says,  that  Thomas  Mowbray,  who  was 
Grand-Marshal  of  England,  succeeded  to  that  high  office, 
as  well  as  to  the  Dukedom  of  Norfolk,  as  grandson  of 
Roger  Bigot,  in  1301." 

"  Pshaw,  man,  you  are  back  into  the  14th  century — I 
mean  these  Mowbrays  of  St.  Ronan's — now,  don't  fall 
asleep  again  until  you  have  answered  my  question — and 
don't  look  so  like  a  startled  hare — I  am  speaking  no 
treason." 

The  clergyman  floundered  a  moment,  as  is  usual  with 
an  absent  man  who  is  recovering  the  train  of  his  ideas, 
or  a  somnambulist  when  he  is  suddenly  awakened,  and 
then  answered,  still  with  hesitation, — 

"  Mowbray  of  St.  Ronan's  ? — ha — eh — I  know — that 
is — I  did  know  the  family." 

"  Here  they  are  going  to  give  a  masquerade,  a  bal 
pare,  private  theatricals,  I  think,  and  what  not,"  handing 
him  the  card. 

"I  saw  something  of  this  a  fortnight  ago,"  said  Mr. 
Cargill ;  "  indeed,  I  either  had  a  ticket  myself,  or  I  saw 
such  a  one  as  that." 

**  Are  you  sure  you  did  not  attend  the  party,  Doctor  ?  " 
said  the  Nabob. 


st.  ronan's  well.  273 

"  Who  attend  ?  I  ?  you  are  jesting,  Mr.  Touchwood." 

"  But  are  you  quite  positive  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Touch- 
wood, who  had  observed,  to  his  infinite  amusement,  that 
the  learned  and  abstracted  scholar  was  so  conscious  of  his 
own  peculiarities,  as  never  to  be  very  sure  on  any  such 
subject. 

"  Positive  ! "  he  repeated,  with  embarrassment ;  "  my 
memory  is  so  wretched  that  I  never  like  to  be  positive — 
but  had  I  done  any  thing  so  far  out  of  my  usual  way,  I 
must  have  remembered  it,  one  would  think — and — I  am 
positive  I  was  not  there." 

"  Neither  could  you,  Doctor,"  said  the  Nabob,  laughing 
at  the  process  by  which  his  friend  reasoned  himself  into 
confidence ;  "  for  it  did  not  take  place — it  was  adjourned, 
and  this  is  the  second  invitation — there  will  be  one  for 
you,  as  you  had  a  card  to  the  former. — Come,  Doctor, 
you  must  go — you  and  I  will  go  together — I  as  an  Imaum 
— I  can  say  my  Bismillah  with  any  Hadgi  of  them  all — 
You  as  a  cardinal,  or  what  you  like  best." 

"  Who,  I  ? — it  is  unbecoming  my  station,  Mr.  Touch- 
wood," said  the  clergyman — "  a  folly  altogether  incon- 
sistent with  my  habits." 

"  All  the  better — you  shall  change  your  habits." 

"  You  had  better  gang  up  and  see  them,  Mr.  Cargill," 
said  Mrs.  Dods ;  "  for  it's  maybe  the  last  sight  ye  may 
see  of  Miss  Mowbray — they  say  she  is  to  be  married 
and  off  to  England  ane  of  thae  odd-come-shortlies,  wi' 
some  of  the  gowks  about  the  Waal  down-by." 

"  Married  !  "  said  the  clergyman  ;  "  it  is  impossible." 

"  But  where's  the  impossibility,  Mr.  Cargill,  when  ye 
see  folk  marry  every  day,  and  buckle  them  yoursell  into 
the  bargain  ? — Maybe  ye  think  the  puir  lassie  has  a  bee 
in  her  banuet ;  but  ye  ken  yoursell  if  naebody  but  wise 

VOL.  xxxiii.  18 


274  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

folk  were  to  marry,  the  warld  wad  be  ill  peopled.  I 
think  it's  the  wise  folk  that  keep  single,  like  yoursell  and 
me,  Mr.  Cargill. — Gude  guide  us! — are  ye  weel? — will 
ye  taste  a  drap  o'  something  ?  " 

"Sniff  at  my  ottar  of  roses,"  said  Mr.  Touchwood; 
"  the  scent  would  revive  the  dead — why,  what  in  the 
devil's  name  is  the  meaning  of  this? — you  were  quite 
well  just  now." 

"  A  sudden  qualm,"  said  Mr.  Cargill,  recovering  him- 
self. 

"  0 !  Mr.  Cargill,"  said  Dame  Dods,  "  this  comes  of 
your  king  fasts." 

"  Right,  dame,"  subjoined  Mr.  Touchwood ;  "  and  of 
breaking  them  with  sour  milk  and  pease  bannock — the 
least  morsel  of  Christian  food  is  rejected  by  the  stomach, 
just  as  a  small  gentleman  refuses  the  visit  of  a  creditable 
neighbour,  lest  he  see  the  nakedness  of  the  land — ha! 
ha!" 

"  And  there  is  really  a  talk  of  Miss  Mowbray  of  St. 
Ronan's  being  married  ?  "  said  the  clergyman. 

"  Troth  is  there,"  said  the  dame  ;  "  it's  Trotting  Nelly's 
news  ;  and  though  she  likes  a  drappie,  I  dinna  think  she 
would  invent  a  lee  or  carry  ane — at  least  to  me,  that  am 
a  gude  customer." 

"This  must  be  looked  to,"  said  Mr.  Cargill,  as  if 
speaking  to  himself. 

"  In  troth,  and  so  it  should,"  said  Dame  Dods ;  "  it's  a 
sin  and  a  shame  if  they  should  employ  the  tinkling  cym- 
bal they  ca'  Chatterly,  and  sic  a  Presbyterian  trumpet  as 
yoursell  in  the  land,  Mr.  Cargill ;  and  if  ye  will  take  a 
fule's  advice,  ye  winna  let  the  multure  be  ta'en  by  your 
ain  mill,  Mr.  Cargill." 

"  True,  true,  good  Mother  Dods,"    said  the  Nabob ; 


st.  konan's  well.  275 

"  gloves  and  hat-bands  are  things  to  be  looked  after ;  and 
Mr.  Cargill  had  better  go  down  to  this  cursed  festivity 
with  me,  in  order  to  see  after  his  own  interest." 

"  I  must  speak  with  the  young  lady,"  said  the  clergy  - 
jtnan,  still  in  a  brown  study. 

"  Right,  right,  my  boy  of  blackletter,"  said  the  Nabob ; 
"  with  me  you  shall  go,  and  we'll  bring  them  to  submis- 
sion to  mother-church,  I  warrant  you — Why,  the  idea  of 
being  cheated  in  such  a  way,  would  scare  a  Santon  out 
of  his  trance. — What  dress  will  you  wear  ?  " 

"  My  own,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  divine,  starting  from 
his  reverie. 

"  True,  thou  art  right  again — they  may  want  to  knit 
the  knot  on  the  spot,  and  who  would  be  married  by  a 
parson  in  masquerade  ? — We  go  to  the  entertainment 
though — it  is  a  done  thing." 

The  clergyman  assented,  provided  he  should  receive 
an  invitation ;  and  as  that  was  found  at  the  Manse,  he 
had  no  excuse  for  retracting,  even  if  he  had  seemed  to 
desire  one. 


276  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

fortune's  frolics. 

Count  Basset. — We  gentlemen,  whose  carriages  run  on  the  four  aces,  are  apt 

to  hare  a  wheel  out  of  order. 

The  Provoked  Husband. 

Our  history  must  now  look  a  little  backwards ;  and  al- 
though it.is  rather  foreign  to  our  natural  style  of  compo- 
sition, it  must  speak  more  in  narrative,  and  less  in  dialogue, 
rather  telling  what  happened,  than  its  effects  upon  the 
actors.  Our  promise,  however,  is  only  conditional,  for 
we  foresee  temptations  which  may  render  it  difficult  for 
us  exactly  to  keep  it. 

The  arrival  of  the  young  Earl  of  Etherington  at  the 
salutiferous  fountain  of  St.  Ronan's  had  produced  the 
strongest  sensation  ;  especially,  as  it  was  joined  with  the 
singular  accident  of  the  attempt  upon  his  lordship's  per- 
son, as  he  took  a  short  cut  through  the  woods  upon  foot, 
at  a  distance  from  his  equipage  and  servants.  The  gal- 
lantry with  which  he  beat  off  the  highwayman,  was  only 
equal  to  his  generosity ;  for  he  declined  making  any  re- 
searches after  the  poor  devil,  although  his  lordship  had 
received  a  severe  wound  in  the  scuffle. 

Of  the  "  three  black  Graces,"  as  they  have  been 
termed  by  one  of  the  most  pleasant  companions  of  our 


st.  ronan's  well.  277 

time,  Law  and  Physic  hastened  to  do  homage  to  Lord 
Etherington,  represented  by  Mr.  Meiklewham  and  Dr. 
Quackleben ;  while  Divinity,  as  favourable,  though  more 
coy,  in  the  person  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Simon  Chatterly, 
stood  on  tiptoe  to  offer  any  service  in  her  power. 

For  the  honourable  reason  already  assigned,  his  lord- 
ship, after  thanking  Mr.  Meiklewham,  and  hinting,  that 
he  might  have  different  occasion  for  his  services,  declined 
his  offer  to  search  out  the  delinquent  by  whom  he  had 
been  wounded ;  while  to  the  care  of  the  Doctor  he  sub- 
jected the  cure  of  a  smart  flesh-wound  in  the  arm,  together 
with  a  slight  scratch  on  the  temple ;  and  so  very  genteel 
was  his  behaviour  on  the  occasion,  that  the  Doctor,  in  his 
anxiety  for  his  safety,  enjoined  him  a  month's  course  of 
the  waters,  if  he  would  enjoy  the  comfort  of  a  complete 
and  perfect  recovery.  Nothing  so  frequent,  he  could  as- 
sure his  lordship,  as  the  opening  of  cicatrized  wounds  ; 
and  the  waters  of  St.  Ronan's  spring  being,  according  to 
Dr.  Quackleben,  a  remedy  for  all  the  troubles  which  flesh 
is  heir  to,  could  not  fail  to  equal  those  of  Barege,  in  facili- 
tating the  discharge  of  all  splinters  or  extraneous  matter, 
which  a  bullet  may  chance  to  incorporate  with  the  human 
frame,  to  its  great  annoyance.  For  he  was  wont  to  say, 
that  although  he  could  not  declare  the  waters  which  he 
patronized  to  be  an  absolute  panpharmacoti,  yet  he  would 
with  word  and  pen  maintain,  that  they  possessed  the  prin- 
cipal virtues  of  the  most  celebrated  medicinal  springs  in 
the  known  world.  In  short,  the  love  of  Alpheus  for 
Arethusa  was  a  mere  jest,  compared  to  that  which  the 
Doctor  entertained  for  his  favourite  fountain. 

The  new  and  noble  guest,  whose  arrival  so  much  illus- 
trated these  scenes  of  convalescence  and  of  gaiety,  was 
not  at  first  seen  so  much  at  the  ordinary,  and  other  places 


278  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

of  public  resort,  as  had  been  the  hope  of  the  worthy  com- 
pany assembled.  His  health  and  his  wound  proved  an 
excuse  for  making  his  visits  to  the  society  few  and  far 
between. 

But  when  he  did  appear,  his  manners  and  person  were 
infinitely  captivating ;  and  even  the  carnation-coloured 
silk  handkerchief,  which  suspended  his  wounded  arm, 
together  with  the  paleness  and  languor  which  loss  of 
blood  had  left  on  his  handsome  and  open  countenance, 
gave  a  grace  to  the  whole  person,  which  many  of  the 
ladies  declared  irresistible.  All  contended  for  his  notice, 
attracted  at  once  by  his  affability,  and  piqued  by  the  calm 
and  easy  nonchalance  with  which  it  seemed  to  be  blended. 
The  scheming  and  selfish  Mowbray,  the  coarse-minded 
and  brutal  Sir  Bingo,  accustomed  to  consider  themselves, 
and  to  be  considered,  as  the  first  men  of  the  party,  sunk 
into  comparative  insignificance.  But  chiefly  Lady  Pe- 
nelope threw  out  the  captivations  of  her  wit  and  her 
literature ;  while  Lady  Binks,  trusting  to  her  natural 
charms,  endeavoured  equally  to  attract  his  notice.  The 
other  nymphs  of  the  Spaw  held  a  little  back,  upon  the 
principle  of  that  politeness,  which,  at  continental  hunting 
parties,  affords  the  first  shot  at  a  fine  piece  of  game,  to 
the  person  of  the  highest  rank  present ;  but  the  thought 
throbbed  in  many  a  fair  bosom,  that  their  ladyships  might 
miss  their  aim,  in  spite  of  the  advantages  thus  allowed 
them,  and  that  there  might  then  be  room  for  less  exalted, 
but  perhaps  not  less  skilful,  markswomen,  to  try  their 
chance. 

But  while  the  Earl  thus  withdrew  from  public  society, 
it  was  necessary,  at  least  natural,  that  he  should  choose 
some  one  with  whom  to  share  the  solitude  of  his  OAvn 
apartment ;  and  Mowbray,  superior  in  rank  to  the  half- 


st.  ronan's  well.  279 

pay  whisky-drinking  Captain  MacTurk — in  clash  to  Win- 
terblossom,  who  was  broken  down,  and  turned  twaddler — 
and  in  tact  and  sense  to  Sir  Bingo  Binks — easily  ma- 
noeuvred himself  into  his  lordship's  more  intimate  society  ; 
and  internally  thanking  the  honest  footpad,  whose  bullet 
had  been  the  indirect  means  of  secluding  his  intended 
victim  from  all  society  but  his  own,  he  gradually  began 
to  feel  the  way,  and  prove  the  strength  of  his  antagonist, 
at  the  various  games  of  skill  and  hazard  which  he  intro- 
duced, apparently  with  the  sole  purpose  of  relieving  the 
tedium  of  a  sick-chamber. 

Meiklewham,  who  felt,  or  affected,  the  greatest  possi- 
ble interest  in  his  patron's  success,  and  who  watched  every 
opportunity  to  inquire  how  his  schemes  advanced,  received 
at  first  such  favourable  accounts  as  made  him  grin  from 
ear  to  ear,  rub  his  hands,  and  chuckle  forth  such  bursts  of 
glee  as  only  the  success  of  triumphant  roguery  could  have 
extorted  from  him.  Mowbray  looked  grave,  however, 
and  checked  his  mirth. 

"  There  was  something  in  it  after  all,"  he  said,  "  that 
he  could  not  perfectly  understand.  Etherington,  an  used 
hand — d — d  sharp — up  to  every  thing,  and  yet  he  lost 
his  money  like  a  baby." 

"And  what  the  matter  how  he  loses  it,  so  you  win  it 
like  a  man  ?  "  said  his  legal  friend  and  adviser. 

"  Why,  hang  it,  I  cannot  tell,"  replied  Mowbray — 
"  were  it  not  that  I  think  he  has  scarce  the  impudence  to 
propose  such  a  thing  to  succeed,  curse  me  but  I  should 
think  he  was  coming  the  old  soldier  over  me,  and  keeping 
up  his  game. — But  no — he  can  scarce  have  the  impu- 
dence to  think  of  that. — I  find,  however,  that  he  has  done 
Wolverine — cleaned  out  poor  Tom — though  Tom  wrote 
to  me  the  precise  contrary,  yet  the  truth  has  since  come 


280  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

out — Well,  I  shall  avenge  him,  for  I  see  his  lordship  is 
to  be  had  as  well  as  other  folks." 

"  Weel,  Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  the  lawyer,  in  a  tone  of 
affected  sympathy,  "ye  ken  your  own  ways  best — but  the 
heavens  will  bless  a  moderate  mind.  I  would  not  like  to 
see  you  ruin  this  poor  lad,  funditus,  that  is  to  say,  out 
and  out. — To  lose  some  of  the  ready  will  do  him  no  great 
harm,  and  maybe  give  him  a  lesson  he  may  be  the  better 
of  as  long  as  he  lives — but  I  wad  not,  as  an  honest  man, 
wish  you  to  go  deeper — you  should  spare  the  lad,  Mr. 
Mowbray." 

"  Who  spared  me,  Meiklewham  ?  "  said  Mowbray,  with 
a  look  and  tone  of  deep  emphasis — "  No,  no — he  must  go 
through  the  mill — money  and  money's  worth. — His  seat 
is  called  Oakendale — think  of  that,  Mick — Oakendale  ! 
Oh,  name  of  thrice  happy  augury  !— Speak  not  of  mercy, 
Mick — the  squirrels  of  Oakendale  must  be  dismounted, 
and  learn  to  go  a-foot. — What  mercy  can  the  wandering 
lord  of  Troy  expect  among  the  Greeks  ! — The  Greeks  ! 
— I  am  a  very  Suliote — the  bravest  of  Greeks. 

'  I  think  not  of  pity,  I  think  not  of  fear, 
He  neither  must  know  who  would  serve  the  Vizier. 

And  necessity,  Mick,"  he  concluded,  with  a  tone  some- 
thing altered,  "  necessity  is  as  unrelenting  a  leader  as  any 
Vizier  or  Pacha,  whom  Scanderbeg  ever  fought  with,  or 
Byron  has  sung." 

Meiklewham  echoed  his  patron's  ejaculation  with  a 
sound  betwixt  a  whine,  a  chuckle,  and  a  groan  ;  the  first 
being  designed  to  express  his  pretended  pity  for  the  des- 
tined victim  ;  the  second  his  sympathy  with  his  patron's 
prospects  of  success  ;  and  the  third  being  a  whistle  ad- 
monitory of  the  dangerous  courses  through  which  his 
object  was  to  be  pursued. 


ST.  ronan's   well.  281 

Suliote  as  he  boasted  himself,  Mowbray  had,  soon  after 
this  conversation,  some  reason  to  admit  that, 

"  When  Greek  meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tug  of  war." 

The  light  skirmishing  betwixt  the  parties  was  ended,  and 
the  serious  battle  commenced  with  some  caution  on  either 
side  ;  each  perhaps  desirous  of  being  master  of  his  op- 
ponent's system  of  tactics,  before  exposing  his  own. 
Piquet,  the  most  beautiful  game  at  which  a  man  can 
make  sacrifice  of  his  fortune,  was  one  with  which  Mow- 
bray had,  for  his  misfortune  perhaps,  been  accounted, 
from  an  early  age,  a  great  proficient,  and  in  which  the 
Earl  of  Etherington,  with  less  experience,  proved  no 
novice.  They  now  played  for  such  stakes  as  Mowbray's 
state  of  fortune  rendered  considerable  to  him,  though  his 
antagonist  appeared  not  to  regard  the  amount.  And  they 
played  with  various  success  ;  for,  though  Mowbray  at 
times  returned  with  a  smile  of  confidence  the  inquiring 
looks  of  his  friend  Meiklewham,  there  were  other  occa- 
sions on  which  he  seemed  to  evade  them,  as  if  his  own 
had  a  sad  confession  to  make  in  reply. 

These  alternations,  though  frequent,  did  not  occupy, 
after  all,  many  clays ;  for  Mowbray,  a  friend  of  all  hours, 
spent  much  of  his  time  in  Lord  Etherington's  apartment, 
and  these  few  days  were  days  of  battle.  In  the  mean- 
time, as  his  lordship  was  now  sufficiently  recovered  to 
join  the  party  at  Shaws-Castle,  and  Miss  Mowbray's 
health  being  announced  as  restored,  that  proposal  was 
renewed,  with  the  addition  of  a  dramatic  entertainment, 
the  nature  of  which  we  shall  afterwards  have  occasion  to 
explain.  Cards  were  anew  issued  to  all  those  who  had 
been  formerly  included  in  the  invitation,  and  of  course  to 
Mr.  Touchwood,  as  formerly  a  resident  at  the  Well,  and 


282  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

now  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  it  being  previously  agreed 
among  the  ladies,  that  a  Nabob,  though  sometimes  a 
dingy  or  damaged  commodity,  was  not  to  be  rashly  or 
unnecessarily  neglected.  As  to  the  parson,  he  had  been 
asked,  of  course,  as  an  old  acquaintance  of  the  Mowbray 
house,  not  to  be  left  out  when  the  friends  of  the  family 
were  invited  on  a  great  scale ;  but  his  habits  were  well 
known,  and  it  was  no  more  expected  that  he  would  leave 
his  manse  on  such  an  occasion,  than  that  the  kirk  should 
loosen  itself  from  its  foundations. 

It  was  after  these  arrangements  had  been  made,  that 
the  Laird  of  St.  Ronan's  suddenly  entered  Meiklewham's 
private  apartment  with  looks  of  exultation.  The  worthy 
scribe  turned  his  spectacled  nose  towards  his  patron,  and 
holding  in  one  hand  the  bunch  of  papers  which  he  had 
just  been  perusing,  and  in  the  other  the  tape  with  which 
he  was  about  to  tie  them  up  again,  suspended  that  opera- 
tion to  await  with  open  eyes  and  ears  the  communication 
of  Mowbray. 

"  I  have  done  him  !  "  he  said,  exultingly,  yet  in  a  tone 
of  voice  lowered  almost  to  a  whisper ;  "  capotted  his  lord- 
ship for  this  bout — doubled  my  capital,  Mick,  and  some- 
thing more. — Hush,  don't  interrupt  me — we  must  think 
of  Clara  now — she  must  share  the  sunshine,  should  it 
prove  but  a  blink  before  a  storm. — You  know,  Mick, 
these  two  d — d  women,  Lady  Penelope  and  the  Binks, 
have  settled  that  they  will  have  something  like  a  bal  pare 
on  this  occasion,  a  sort  of  theatrical  exhibition,  and  that 
those  who  like  it  shall  be  dressed  in  character. — I  know 
their  meaning — they  think  Clara  has  no  dress  fit  for  such 
foolery,  and  so  they  hope  to  eclipse  her ;  Lady  Pen,  with 
her  old-fashioned  ill-set  diamonds,  and  my  Lady  Binks, 
with  the  new-fashioned  finery  which  she  swopt  her  char- 


st.  ronan's  well.  283 

acter  for.     But  Clara  shan't  be  borne  down  so,  by ! 

I  got  that  affected  slut,  Lady  Binks's  maid,  to  tell  me 
what  her  mistress  had  set  her  mind  on,  and  she  is  to  wear 
a  Grecian  habit,  forsooth,  like  one  of  Will  Allan's  East- 
ern subjects. — But  here's  the  rub — there  is  only  one 
shawl  for  sale  in  Edinburgh  that  is  worth  showing  off  in, 
and  that  is  at  the  Gallery  of  Fashion. — Now,  Mick,  my 
friend,  that  shawl  must  be  had  for  Clara,  with  the  other 
trankums  of  muslin,  and  lace,  and  so  forth,  which  you 
will  find  marked  in  the  paper  there. — Send  instantly  and 
secure  it,  for,  as  Lady  Binks  writes  by  to-morrow's  post, 
your  order  can  go  by  to-night's  mail — There  is  a  note 
for  £100." 

From  a  mechanical  habit  of  never  refusing  any  thing, 
Meiklewham  readily  took  the  note,  but  having  looked  at 
it  through  his  spectacles,  he  continued  to  hold  it  in  his 
hand  as  he  remonstrated  with  his  patron. — "  This  is  a' 
very  kindly  meant,  St.  Konan's — very  kindly  meant;  and 
I  wad  be  the  last  to  say  that  Miss  Clara  does  not  merit 
respect  and  kindness  at  your  hand  ;  but  I  doubt  mickle 
if  she  wad  care  a  bodle  for  thae  braw  things.  Ye  ken 
yoursell,  she  seldom  alters  her  fashions.  Od,  she  thinks 
her  riding-habit  dress  eneugh  for  ony  company ;  and  if 
you  were  ganging  by  good  looks,  so  it  is — if  she  had  a 
thought  mair  colour,  poor  dear." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mowbray,  impatiently,  "  let  me 
alone  to  reconcile  a  woman  and  a  fine  dress." 

"  To  be  sure,  ye  ken  best,"  said  the  writer  ;  "  but,  after 
a',  now.  wad  it  no  be  better  to  lay  by  this  hundred  pound 
in  Tarn  Turnpenny's,  in  case  the  young  lady  should  want 
it  afterhand,  just  for  a  sair  foot  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Mick  ;  what  signifies  healing  a  sore 
foot,  when  there  will  be  a  broken  heart  in  the  case? — No, 


284  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

no — get  the  things  as  I  desire  you — we  will  blaze  them 
down  for  one  day  at  least ;  perhaps  it  will  be  the  begin- 
ning of  a  proper  dash." 

"  Weel,  weel,  I  wish  it  may  be  so,"  answered  Meikle- 
wham  ;  "but  this  young  Earl — hae  ye  found  the  weak 
point  ? — Can  ye  get  a  decerniture  against  him,  with  ex- 
penses ? — that  is  the  question." 

"  I  wish  I  could  answer  it,"  said  Mowbray,  thought- 
fully.— "  Confound  the  fellow — he  is  a  cut  above  me  in 
rank  and  in  society  too — belongs  to  the  great  clubs,  and 
is  in  with  the  Superlatives  and  Inaccessibles,  and  all  that 
sort  of  folk. — My  training  has  been  a  peg  lower — but, 
hang  it,  there  are  better  dogs  bred  in  the  kennel  than  in 
the  parlour.  I  am  up  to  him,  I  think — at  least  I  will 
soon  know,  Mick,  whether  I  am  or  no,  and  that  is  always 
one  comfort.  Never  mind — do  you  execute  my  commis- 
sion, and  take  care  you  name  no  names — I  must  save  my 
little  Abigail's  reputation." 

They  parted,  Meiklewham  to  execute  his  patron's  com- 
mission— his  patron  to  bring  to  the  test  those  hopes,  the 
uncertainty  of  which  he  could  not  disguise  from  his  own 
sagacity. 

Trusting  to  the  continuance  of  his  run  of  luck,  Mow- 
bray resolved  to  bring  affairs  to  a  crisis  that  same  eve- 
ning. Every  thing  seemed  in  the  outset  to  favour  his 
purpose.  They  had  dined  together  in  Lord  Ethering- 
ton's  apartments — his  state  of  health  interfered  with  the 
circulation  of  the  bottle,  and  a  drizzly  autumnal  evening 
rendered  walking  disagreeable,  even  had  they  gone  no 
farther  than  the  private  stable  where  Lord  Ethering- 
ton's  horses  were  kept,  under  the  care  of  a  groom  of 
superior  skill.  Cards  were  naturally,  almost  necessarily, 
resorted   to,  as   the   only  alternative  for  helping   away 


st.  ronan's  well.  285 

the  evening,  and  piquet  was,  as  formerly,  chosen  for  the 
game. 

Lord  Etherington  seemed  at  first  indolently  careless  and 
indifferent  about  his  play,  suffering  advantages  to  escape 
him,  of  which,  in  a  more  attentive  state  of  mind,  he  could 
not  have  failed  to  avail  himself.  Mowbray  upbraided 
him  with  his  inattention,  and  proposed  a  deeper  stake,  in 
order  to  interest  him  in  the  game.  The  young  nobleman 
complied  ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hands,  the  gamesters 
became  both  deeply  engaged  in  watching  and  profiting  by 
the  changes  of  fortune.  These  were  so  many,  so  varied, 
and  so  unexpected,  that  the  veiy  souls  of  the  players 
seemed  at  length  centred  in  the  event  of  the  struggle ; 
and,  by  dint  of  doubling  stakes,  the  accumulated  sum  of  a 
thousand  pounds  and  upwards,  upon  each  side,  came  to  be 
staked  in  the  issue  of  the  game. — So  large  a  risk  included 
all  those  funds  which  Mowbray  commanded  by  his  sister's 
kindness,  and  nearly  all  his  previous  winnings,  so  to  him 
the  alternative  was  victory  or  ruin.  He  could  not  hide 
his  agitation,  however  desirous  to  do  so.  He  drank  wine 
to  supply  himself  with  courage — he  drank  water  to  cool 
his  agitation  ;  and  at  length  bent  himself  to  play  with  as 
much  care  and  attention  as  he  felt  himself  enabled  to 
command. 

In  the  first  part  of  the  game  their  luck  appeared 
tolerably  equal,  and  the  play  of  both  befitting  gamesters 
who  had  dared  to  place  such  a  sum  on  the  cast.  But,  as 
it  drew  towards  a  conclusion,  fortune  altogether  deserted 
him  who  stood  most  in  need  of  her  favour,  and  Mowbray, 
with  silent  despair,  saw  his  fate  depend  on  a  single  trick, 
and  that  with  every  odds  against  him,  for  Lord  Ethering- 
ton was  elder  hand.  But  how  can  fortune's  favour  secure 
any  one  who  is  not  true  to  himself? — By  an  infraction  of 


286  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

the  laws  of  the  game,  which  could  only  have  been  ex- 
pected from  the  veriest  bungler  that  ever  touched  a  card, 
Lord  Etherington  called  a  point  without  showing  it,  and, 
by  the  ordinary  rule,  Mowbray  was  entitled  to  count  his 
own — and  in  the  course  of  that  and  the  next  hand, 
gained  the  game  and  swept  the  stakes.  Lord  Ethering- 
ton showed  chagrin  and  displeasure,  and  seemed  to  think 
that  the  rigour  of  the  game  had  been  more  insisted  upon 
than  in  courtesy  it  ought  to  have  been,  when  men  were 
playing  for  so  small  a  stake.  Mowbray  did  not  under- 
stand this  logic.  A  thousand  pounds,  he  said,  were  in 
his  eyes  no  nut-shells  ;  the  rules  of  piquet  were  insisted 
on  by  all  but  boys  and  women  ;  and  for  his  part,  he  had 
rather  not  play  at  all  than  not  play  the  game. 

"  So  it  would  seem,  my  dear  Mowbray,"  said  the  Earl ; 
"  for  on  my  soul,  I  never  saw  so  disconsolate  a  visage  as 
thine  during  that  unlucky  game — it  withdrew  all  my 
attention  from  my  hand ;  and  I  may  safely  say,  your 
rueful  countenance  has  stood  me  in  a  thousand  pounds. 
If  I  could  transfer  thy  long  visage  to  canvas,  I  should 
have  both  my  revenge  and  my  money  ;  for  a  correct 
resemblance  would  be  worth  not  a  penny  less  than  the 
original  has  cost  me." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  your  jest,  my  lord,"  said  Mow- 
bray, "  it  has  been  well  paid  for ;  and  I  will  serve  you  in 
ten  thousand  at  the  same  rate.  What  say  you  ?  "  he  pro- 
ceeded, taking  up  and  shuffling  the  cards,  "  will  you  do 
yourself  more  justice  in  another  game  ? — Revenge,  they 
say,  is  sweet." 

"  I  have  no  appetite  for  it  this  evening,"  said  the  Eaid, 
gravely ;  "  if  I  had,  Mowbray,  you  might  come  by  the 
worse.  I  do  not  always  call  a  point  without  showing 
it." 


st.  ronan's  well.  287 

"  Your  lordship  is  out  of  humour  with  yourself  for  a 
blunder  that  might  happen  to  any  man — it  was  as  much 
my  good  luck  as  a  good  hand  would  have  been,  and  so 
Fortune  be  praised." 

"  But  what  if  with  this  Fortune  had  nought  to  do  ?  " 
replied  Lord  Etherington. — "  What  if,  sitting  down  with 
an  honest  fellow  and  a  friend  like  yourself,  Mowbray,  a 
man  should  rather  choose  to  lose  his  own  money,  which 
he  could  afford,  than  to  win  what  it  might  distress  his 
friend  to  part  with  ?  " 

"  Supposing  a  case  so  far  out  of  supposition,  my  lord," 
answered  Mowbray,  who  felt  the  question  ticklish — "  for, 
with  submission,  the  allegation  is  easily  made,  and  is 
totally  incapable  of  proof — I  should  say,  no  one  had  a 
right  to  think  for  me  in  such  a  particular,  or  to  suppose 
that  I  played  for  a  higher  stake  than  was  convenient." 

"  And  thus  your  friend,  poor  devil,"  replied  Lord 
Etherington,  "  would  lose  his  money,  and  run  the  risk 
of  a  quarrel  into  the  boot ! — We  will  try  it  another  way 
— Suppose  this  good-humoured  and  simple-minded  game- 
ster had  a  favour  of  the  deepest  import  to  ask  of  his 
friend,  and  judged  it  better  to  prefer  his  request  to  a 
winner  than  to  a  loser  ?  " 

"  If  this  applies  to  me,  my  lord,"  replied  Mowbray, 
"  it  is  necessary  I  should  learn  how  I  can  oblige  your 
lordship." 

"  That  is  a  word  soon  spoken,  but  so  difficult  to  be 
recalled,  that  I  am  almost  tempted  to  pause — but  yet  it 
must  be  said. — Mowbray,  you  have  a  sister." 

Mowbray  started. — "  I  have  indeed  a  sister,  my  lord  ; 
but  I  can  conceive  no  case  in  which  her  name  can  enter 
with  propriety  into  our  present  discussion." 

"  Again  in  the  menacing  mood  !  "  said  Lord  Ethering- 


288  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

ton,  in  his  former  tone ;  "  now  here  is  a  pretty  fellow — ■ 
he  would  first  cut  my  throat  for  having  won  a  thousand 
pounds  from  me,  and  then  for  offering  to  make  his  sister 
a  countess ! " 

"  A  countess,  my  lord  ?  "  said  Mowbray  ;  "  you  are 
but  jesting — you  have  never  even  seen  Clara  Mowbray." 

"  Perhaps  not — but  what  then  ? — I  may  have  seen  her 
picture,  as  Puff  says  in  the  Critic,  or  fallen  in  love  with 
her  from  rumour — or,  to  save  farther  suppositions,  as  I 
see  they  render  you  impatient,  I  may  be  satisfied  with 
knowing  that  she  is  a  beautiful  and  accomplished  young 
lady,  with  a  large  fortune." 

"  What  fortune  do  you  mean,  my  lord  ?  "  said  Mow- 
bray, recollecting  with  alarm  some  claims,  which,  accord- 
ing to  Meiklewham's  view  of  the  subject,  his  sister  might 
form  upon  his  property. — "  What  estate  ? — there  is 
nothing  belongs  to  our  family  save  these  lands  of  St. 
Ronan's,  or  what  is  left  of  them  ;  and  of  these  I  am,  my 
lord,  an  undoubted  heir  of  entail  in  possession." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  the  Earl,  "  for  I  have  no  claim  on 

your  mountain  realms  here,  which  are,  doubtless, 

'  renown'd  of  old 

For  knights,  and  squires,  and  barons  bold; ' 

my  views  respect  a  much  richer,  though  less  romantic 

domain — a   large  manor,  bight  Nettlewood.     House  old, 

but  standing  in  the  midst  of  such  glorious  oaks — three 

thousand  acres  of  land,  arable,   pasture,  and  woodland, 

exclusive  of  the  two  closes  occupied  by  Widow  Hodge 

and  Goodman  Trampclod — manorial  rights — mines  and 

minerals — and   the   devil  knows  how   many  good  things 

beside,  all  lying  in  the  vale  of  Bever." 

"  And  what  has  my  sister  to  do  with  all  this  ?  "  asked 

Mowbray,  in  great  surprise. 


st.  ronan's  well.  289 

"  Nothing ;  but  that  it  belongs  to  her  when  she  becomes 
Countess  of  Etherington." 

"  It  is,  then,  your  lordship's  property  already  ?  " 

"  No,  by  Jove  !  nor  can  it,  unless  your  sister  honours 
me  with  her  approbation  of  my  suit,"  replied  the  Earl. 

"  This  is  a  sorer  puzzle  than  one  of  Lady  Penelope's 
charades,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Mowbray ;  "  I  must  call  in 
the  assistance  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Chatterly." 

"You  shall  not  need,"  said  Lord  Etherington;  "I 
will  give  you  the  key,  but  listen  to  me  with  patience. — 
You  know  that  we  nobles  of  England,  less  jealous  of  our 
sixteen  quarters  than  those  on  the  continent,  do  not  take 
scorn  to  line  our  decayed  ermines  with  a  little  cloth  of 
gold  from  the  city ;  and  my  grandfather  was  lucky 
enough  to  get  a  wealthy  wife,  with  a  halting  pedigree, — 
rather  a  singular  circumstance,  considering  that  her 
father  was  a  countryman  of  yours.  She  had  a  brother, 
however,  still  more  wealthy  than  herself,  and  who  in- 
creased his  fortune  by  continuing  to  carry  on  the  trade 
which  had  first  enriched  his  family.  At  length  he 
summed  up  his  books,  washed  his  hands  of  commerce, 
and  retired  to  Nettlewood,  to  become  a  gentleman ;  and 
here  my  much  respected  grand-uncle  was  seized  with 
the  rage  of  making  himself  a  man  of  consequence.  Pie 
tried  what  marrying  a  woman  of  family  would  do ;  but 
he  soon  found  that  whatever  advantage  his  family  might 
derive  from  his  doing  so,  his  own  condition  was  but  little 
illustrated.  He  next  resolved  to  become  a  man  of  family 
himself.  1 1  is  father  had  left  Scotland  when  very  young, 
and  bore,  I  blush  to  say,  the  vulgar  name  of  Scrogie. 
This  hapless  dissyllable  my  uncle  carried  in  person  to  the 
herald  office  in  Scotland;  but  neither  Lyon,  nor  March- 
mont,  nor  Islay,  nor  Snadoun,  neither  herald  nor  pur.-ui- 

VOL.    XXXIII.  19 


290  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

vant,  would  patronize  Scrogie. — Scrogie  ! — there  could 
nothing  be  made  out  of  it — so  that  my  worthy  relative 
had  recourse  to  the  surer  side  of  the  house,  and  began  to 
found  his  dignity  on  his  mother's  name  of  Mowbray.  In 
this  he  was  much  more  successful,  and  I  believe  some 
sly  fellow  stole  for  him  a  slip  from  your  own  family  tree, 
Mr.  Mowbray  of  St.  Ronan's,  which,  I  dare  say,  you 
have  never  missed.  At  any  rate,  for  his  argent  and  or, 
he  got  a  handsome  piece  of  parchment,  blazoned  with  a 
white  lion  for  Mowbray,  to  be  borne  quarterly,  with  three 
stunted  or  scrog-bushes  for  Scrogie,  and  became  thence- 
forth Mr.  Scrogie  Mowbray,  or  rather,  as  he  subscribed 
himself,  Reginald  (his  former  Christian  name  was  Ronald) 
S.  Mowbray.  He  had  a  son  who  most  undutifully  laughed 
at  all  this,  refused  the  honours  of  the  high  name  of  Mow- 
bray, and  insisted  on  retaining  his  father's  original  appel- 
lative of  Scrogie,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  his  said 
father's  ears,  and  damage  of  his  temper." 

"Why,  faith,  betwixt  the  two,"  said  Mowbray,  "I 
own  I  should  have  preferred  my  own  name,  and  I  think 
the  old  gentleman's  taste  rather  better  than  the  young 
one's." 

"  True ;  but  both  were  wilful,  absurd  originals,  with  a 
happy  obstinacy  of  temper,  whether  derived  from  Mow- 
bray or  Scrogie  I  know  not,  but  which  led  them  so  often 
into  opposition,  that  the  offended  father,  Reginald  S.  Mow- 
bray, turned  his  recusant  son,  Scrogie,  fairly  out  of  doors  ; 
and  the  fellow  would  have  paid  for  his  plebeian  spirit 
with  a  vengeance,  had  he  not  found  refuge  with  a  surviv- 
ing partner  of  the  original  Scrogie  of  all,  who  still  carried 
on  the  lucrative  branch  of  traffic  by  which  the  family 
had  been  first  enriched.  I  mention  these  particulars  to 
account,  in  so  far  as  I  can,  for  the  singular  predicament 
in  which  I  now  find  myself  placed." 


ST.    RONAN  S    WELL.  291 

"  Proceed,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Mowbray  ;  "  there  is 
no  denying  the  singularity  of  your  story,  and  I  presume 
you  are  quite  serious  in  giving  me  such  an  extraordinary 
detail." 

"  Entirely  so,  upon  my  honour — and  a  most  serious 
matter  it  is,  you  will  presently  find.  When  my  worthy 
uncle,  Mr.  S.  Mowbray,  (for  I  will  not  call  him  Scrogie 
even  in  the  grave,)  paid  his  debt  to  nature,  every  body 
concluded  he  would  be  found  to  have  disinherited  his  son, 
the  unfilial  Scrogie,  and  so  far  every  body  was  right — 
But  it  was  also  generally  believed  that  he  would  settle 
the  estate  on  my  father,  Lord  Etherington,  the  son  of 
his  sister,  and  therein  every  one  was  wrong.  For  my 
excellent  grand-uncle  had  pondered  with  himself,  that 
the  favoured  name  of  Mowbray  would  take  no  advan- 
tage, and  attain  no  additional  elevation,  if  his  estate  of 
Nettlewood  (otherwise  called  Mowbray-Park)  should  de- 
scend to  our  family  without  any  condition  ;  and  with  the 
assistance  of  a  sharp  attorney,  he  settled  it  on  me,  then  a 
schoolboy,  on  condition  that  I  should,  before  attaining 
the  age  of  twenty -five  complete,  take  unto  myself  in  holy 
wedlock  a  young  lady  of  good  fame,  of  the  name  of 
Mowbray,  and,  by  preference,  of  the  house  of  St.  Ronan's, 
should  a  damsel  of  that  house  exist. — Now  my  riddle  is 
read." 

"And  a  very  extraordinary  one  it  is,"  replied  Mow- 
bray, thoughtfully. 

"  Confess  the  truth,"  said  Lord  Etherington,  laying 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder  ;  "  you  think  the  story  will  bear 
a  grain  of  a  scruple  of  doubt,  if  not  a  whole  scruple 
itself?" 

"At  least,  my  lord,"  answered  Mowbray,  "your  lord- 
ship will  allow,  that,  being  Miss    .Mowbray's  only  mar 


292  "WAVEELEY    NOVELS. 

relation,  and  sole  guardian,  I  may,  without  offence,  pause 
upon  a  suit  for  her  hand,  made  under  such  odd  circum- 
stances." 

"  If  you  have  the  least  doubt  either  respecting  my  rank 
or  fortune,  I  can  give,  of  course,  the  most  satisfactory 
references,"  said  the  Earl  of  Etherington. 

"  That  I  can  easily  believe,  my  lord,"  said  Mowbray  ; 
"  nor  do  I  in  the  least  fear  deception,  where  detection 
would  be  so  easy.  Your  lordship's  proceedings  towards 
me,  too,"  (with  a  conscious  glance  at  the  bills  he  still 
held  in  his  hand,)  "  have,  I  admit,  been  such  as  to  inti- 
mate some  such  deep  cause  of  interest  as  you  have  been 
pleased  to  state.  But  it  seems  strange  that  your  lord- 
ship should  have  permitted  years  to  glide  away,  without 
so  much  as  inquiring  after  the  young  lady,  who,  I  be- 
lieve, is  the  only  person  qualified,  as  your  grand-uncle's 
will  requires,  with  whom  you  can  form  an  alliance.  It 
appears  to  me,  that  long  before  now,  this  matter  ought  to 
have  been  investigated ;  and  that,  even  now,  it  would 
have  been  more  natural  and  more  decorous  to  have  at 
least  seen  my  sister  before  proposing  for  her  hand." 

"  On  the  first  point,  my  dear  Mowbray,"  said  Lord 
Etherington,  "  I  am  free  to  own  to  you,  that,  without 
meaning  your  sister  the  least  affront,  I  would  have  got 
rid  of  this  clause  if  I  could  ;  for  every  man  would  fain 
choose  a  wife  for  himself,  and  I  feel  no  hurry  to  marry 
at  all.  But  the  rogue-lawyers,  after  taking  fees,  and 
keeping  me  in  hand  for  years,  have  at  length  roundly 
told  me  the  clause  must  be  complied  with,  or  Nettlewood 
must  have  another  master.  So  I  thought  it  best  to  come 
down  here  in  person  in  order  to  address  the  fair  lady  ; 
but  as  accident  has  hitherto  prevented  my  seeing  her, 
and  as  I  found   in  her  brother  a  man  who  understands 


ST.    RONAX  S    WELL.  293 

the  world,  I  hope  you  will  not  think  the  worse  of  me 
that  I  have  endeavoured  in  the  outset  to  make  you  my 
friend.  Truth  is,  I  shall  be  twenty-five  in  the  course 
of  a  month  ;  and  without  your  favour,  and  the  oppor- 
tunities which  only  you  can  afford  me,  that  seems  a 
short  time  to  woo  and  win  a  lady  of  Miss  Mowbray's 
merit." 

"And  what  is  the  alternative  if  you  do  not  form  this 
proposed  alliance,  my  lord  ?  "  said  Mowbray. 

"  The  bequest  of  my  grand-uncle  lapses,"  said  the 
Earl,  "  and  fair  Nettlevvood,  with  its  old  house,  and  older 
oaks,  manorial  rights,  Hodge  Trampclod,  and  all,  devolves 
on  a  certain  cousin-german  of  mine,  whom  Heaven  of  his 
mercy  confound  !  " 

"  You  have  left  yourself  little  time  to  prevent  such  an 
event,  my  lord,"  said  Mowbray  ;  "  but  things  being  as  I 
now  see  them,  you  shall  have  what  interest  I  can  give 
you  in  the  affair. — We  must  stand,  however,  on  more 
equal  terms,  my  lord — I  will  condescend  so  far  as  to 
allow  it  would  have  been  inconvenient  for  me  at  this  mo- 
ment to  have  lost  that  game,  but  I  cannot  in  the  circum- 
stances think  of  acting  as  if  that  I  fairly  won  it.  We 
must  draw  stakes,  my  lord." 

"  Not  a  word  of  that,  if  you  really  mean  me  kindly,  my 
dear  Mowbray.  The  blunder  was  a  real  one,  for  I  was 
indeed  thinking,  as  you  may  suppose,  on  other  things 
than  the  showing  my  point — All  was  fairly  lost  and  won. 
— I  hope  I  shall  have  opportunities  of  offering  real  ser- 
vices, which  may  perhaps  give  me  some  right  to  your 
partial  regard — at  present  we  are  on  equal  footing  on  all 
sides — perfectly  so." 

"  If  your  lordship  thinks  so,"  said  Mowbray, — and  thru 
passing  rapidly  to  what   he  felt  he  could  say  with  more 


294  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

confidence, — "  Indeed,  at  any  rate,  no  personal  obligation 
to  myself  could  prevent  my  doing  my  full  duty  as  guar- 
dian to  my  sister." 

"  Unquestionably,  I  desire  nothing  else,"  replied  the 
Earl  of  Etherington. 

"  I  must  therefore  understand  that  your  lordship  is 
quite  serious  in  your  proposal ;  and  that  it  is  not  to  be 
withdrawn,  even  if  upon  acquaintance  with  Miss  Mow- 
bray, you  should  not  perhaps  think  her  so  deserving  of 
your  lordship's  attentions,  as  report  may  have  spoken 
her." 

"  Mr.  Mowbray,"  replied  the  Earl,  "  the  treaty  between 
you  and  me  shall  be  as  definite  as  if  I  were  a  sovereign 
prince,  demanding  in  marriage  the  sister  of  a  neighbour- 
ing monarch,  whom,  according  to  royal  etiquette,  he 
neither  has  seen  nor  could  see.  I  have  been  quite  frank 
with  you,  and  I  have  stated  to  you  that  my  present  mo- 
tives for  entering  upon  negotiation  are  not  personal,  but 
territorial  ;  when  I  know  Miss  Mowbray,  I  have  no 
doubt  they  will  be  otherwise.  I  have  heard  she  is 
beautiful." 

"  Something  of  the  palest,  my  lord,"  answered  Mow- 
bray. 

"  A  fine  complexion  is  the  first  attraction  which  is  lost 
in  the  world  of  fashion,  and  that  which  it  is  easiest  to 
replace." 

"  Dispositions  my  lord,  may  differ,"  said  Mowbray, 
"  without  faults  on  either  side.  I  presume  your  lordship 
has  inquired  into  my  sister's.  She  is  amiable,  accom- 
plished, sensible,  and  high-spirited  ;  but  yet  " 

"  I  understand  you,  Mr.  Mowbray,  and  will  spare  you 
the  pain  of  speaking  out.  I  have  heard  Miss  Mowbray 
is  in  some  respects — particular ;  to  use  a  broader  word 


st.  ronan's  well.  295 

— a  little  whimsical. — No  matter.  She  will  have  the 
less  to  learn  when  she  becomes  a  countess,  and  a  woman 
of  fashion." 

"  Are  you  serious,  my  lord  ?  "  said  Mowbray. 

"  I  am — and  I  will  speak  my  mind  still  more  plainly. 
I  have  a  good  temper,  and  excellent  spirits,  and  can  en- 
dure a  good  deal  of  singularity  in  those  I  live  with.  I 
have  no  doubt  your  sister  and  I  will  live  happily  together 
— But  in  case  it  should  prove  otherwise,  arrangements 
may  be  made  previously,  which  will  enable  us  in  certain 
circumstances  to  live  happily  apart.  My  own  estate  is 
large,  and  Nettlewood  will  bear  dividing." 

"  Nay,  then,"  said  Mowbray,  "  I  have  little  more  to  say 
— nothing  indeed  remains  for  inquiry,  so  far  as  your  lord- 
ship is  concerned.  But  my  sister  must  have  free  liberty 
of  choice — so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  your  lordship's  suit 
has  my  interest." 

"  And  I  trust  we  may  consider  it  as  a  done  thing  ?  " 

"  With  Clara's  approbation — certainly,"  answered 
Mowbray. 

"  I  trust  there  is  no  chance  of  personal  repugnance  on 
the  young  lady's  part  ?  "  said  the  young  peer. 

"  I  anticipate  nothing  of  the  kind,  my  lord,"  answered 
Mowbray,  "  as  I  presume  there  is  no  reason  for  any  ;  but 
young  ladies  will  be  capricious,  and  if  Clara,  after  I  have 
done  ami  said  all  that  a  brother  ought  to  do,  should  re- 
main repugnant,  there  is  a  point  in  the  exertion  of  my 
influence  which  it  would  be  cruelty  to  pass." 

The  Earl  of  Etherington  walked  a  turn  through  the 
apartment,  then  paused,  and  said  in  a  grave  and  doubtful 
tone,  "In  the  meanwhile,  I  am  bound,  and  the  young 
lady  is  free,  Mowbray.      Is  this  quite  fair?  " 

"  It  is  what  happens  in  every  case,  my  lord,  where   a 


296  WAVERLEY    NOVELS. 

gentleman  proposes  for  a  lady,"  answered  Mowbray ; 
"  he  must  remain,  of  course,  bound  by  his  offer,  until, 
within  a  reasonable  time,  it  is  accepted  or  rejected.  It  is 
not  my  fault  that  your  lordship  has  declared  your  wishes 
to  me,  before  ascertaining  Clara's  inclination.  But  while 
as  yet  the  matter  is  between  ourselves — I  make  you 
welcome  to  draw  back  if  you  think  proper.  Clara  Mow- 
bray needs  not  push  for  a  catch-match." 

"  Nor  do  I  desire,"  said  the  young  nobleman,  "  any 
time  to  reconsider  the  resolution  which  I  have  confided 
to  you.  I  am  not  in  the  least  fearful  that  I  shall  change 
my  mind  on  seeing  your  sister,  and  I  am  ready  to  stand 
by  the  proposal  which  I  have  made  to  you. — If,  however, 
you  feel  so  extremely  delicately  on  my  account,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  I  can  see  and  even  converse  with  Miss  Mowbray 
at  this  fete  of  yours,  without  the  necessity  of  being  at  all 
presented  to  her — The  character  which  I  have  assumed 
in  a  manner  obliges  me  to  wear  a  mask." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  Laird  of  St.  Ronan's,  "  and  I  am 
glad,  for  both  our  sakes,  your  lordship  thinks  of  taking  a 
little  law  upon  this  occasion." 

"  I  shall  profit  nothing  by  it,"  said  the  Earl ;  "  my 
doom  is  fixed  before  I  start — but  if  this  mode  of  manag- 
ing the  matter  will  -save  your  conscience,  I  have  no 
objection  to  it — it  cannot  consume  much  time,  which  is 
what  I  have  to  look  to." 

They  then  shook  hands  and  parted,  without  any  farther 
discourse  which  could  interest  the  reader. 

Mowbray  was  glad  to  find  himself  alone,  in  order  to 
think  over  what  had  happened,  and  to  ascertain  the  state 
of  his  own  mind,  which  at  present  was  puzzling  even  to 
himself.  He  could  not  but  feel  that  much  greater  advan- 
tages  of  every   kind   might  accrue  to  himself  and   his 


st.  eonan's  well.  297 

family  from  the  alliance  of  the  wealthy  young  Earl,  than 
could  have  been  derived  from  any  share  of  his  spoils 
which  he  had  proposed  to  gain  by  superior  address  in 
play,  or  greater  skill  on  the  turf.  But  his  pride  was  hurt 
when  he  recollected  that  he  had  placed  himself  entirely 
in  Lord  Etherington's  power ;  and  the  escape  from  abso- 
lute ruin  which  he  had  made,  solely  by  the  suiferance  of 
his  opponent,  had  nothing  in  it  consolatory  to  his  wounded 
feelings.  He  was  lowered  in  his  own  eyes,  when  he  rec- 
ollected how  completely  the  proposed  victim  of  his  inge- 
nuity had  seen  through  his  schemes,  and  only  abstained 
from  baffling  them  entirely,  because  to  do  so  suited  best 
with  his  own.  There  was  a  shade  of  suspicion,  too,  which 
he  could  not  entirely  eradicate  from  his  mind. — What 
occasion  had  this  young  nobleman  to  preface,  by  the  vol- 
untary loss  of  a  brace  of  thousands,  a  proposal  which 
must  have  been  acceptable  in  itself,  without  any  such 
sacrifice  ?  And  why  should  he,  after  all,  have  been  so 
eager  to  secure  his  accession  to  the  proposed  alliance, 
before  he  had  ever  seen  the  lady  who  was  the  object  of 
it  ?  However  hurried  for  time,  he  might  have  waited 
the  event  at  least  of  the  entertainment  at  Shaws-Castle, 
at  which  Clara  was  necessarily  obliged  to  make  her 
appearance. — Yet  such  conduct,  however  unusual,  was 
equally  inconsistent  with  any  sinister  intentions ;  since 
the  sacrifice  of  a  lai'ge  sum  of  money,  and  the  declaration 
of  his  views  upon  a  portionless  young  lady  of  family, 
could  scarcely  be  the  preface  to  any  unfair  practice.  So 
that,  upon  the  whole,  Mowbray  settled,  that  what  was 
uncommon  in  the  Earl's  conduct  arose  from  the  hasty  and 
eager  disposition  of  a  rich  young  Englishman,  to  whom 
money  is  of  little  consequence,  and  who  is  too  headlong 
in  pursuit  of  the  favourite  plan  of  the  moment,  to  proceed 


298  WAVERLEV    NOVELS. 

in  the  most  rational  or  most  ordinary  manner.  If,  how- 
ever, there  should  prove  any  thing  farther  in  the  matter 
than  he  could  at  present  discover,  Mowbray  promised 
himself  that  the  utmost  circumspection  on  his  part  could 
not  fail  to  discover  it,  and  that  in  full  time  to  prevent  any 
ill  consequences  to  his  sister  or  himself. 

Immersed  in  such  cogitations,  he  avoided  the  inquisi- 
tive presence  of  Mr.  Meiklewham,  who,  as  usual,  had  been 
watching  for  him  to  learn  how  matters  were  going  on ; 
and  although  it  was  now  late,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and 
rode  hastily  to  Shaws-Castle.  On  the  way,  he  deliber- 
ated with  himself  whether  to  mention  to  his  sister  the 
application  which  had  been  made  to  him,  in  order  to  pre- 
pare her  to  receive  the  young  Earl,  as  a  suitor,  favoured 
with  her  brother's  approbation.  "  But  no,  no,  no ; "  such 
was  the  result  of  his  contemplation.  "  She  might  take  it 
into  her  head  that  his  thoughts  were  bent  less  upon  hav- 
ing her  for  a  Countess,  than  on  obtaining  possession  of 
his  grand-uncle's  estate.  We  must  keep  quiet,"  concluded 
he,  "  until  her  personal  appearance  and  accomplishments 
may  appear  at  least  to  have  some  influence  upon  his 
choice.  We  must  say  nothing  till  this  blessed  entertain- 
ment has  been  given  and  received." 


st.  ronan's  well.  299 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A    LETTER. 


"  Has  he  so  long  held  out  with  me  untired, 
And  stops  he  now  for  breath ?— Well— Be  it  so." 

Richard  III. 

Mowbray  had  no  sooner  left  the  Earl's  apartment, 
than  the  latter  commenced  an  epistle  to  a  friend  and  asso- 
ciate, which  we  lay  before  the  reader,  as  best  calculated 
to  illustrate  the  views  and  motives  of  the  writer.     It  was 

addressed   to    Captain   Jekyl,   of  the  regiment    of 

Guards,  at  the  Green  Dragon,  Harrogate,  and  was  of  the 
following  tenor : — 

"  Dear  Harry, 
"  I  have  expected  you  here  these  ten  days  past,  anx- 
iously as  ever  man  was  looked  for ;  and  have  now  to 
charge  your  absence  as  high  treason  to  your  sworn  alle- 
giance. Surely  you  do  not  presume,  like  one  of  Napo- 
leon's new-made  monarchs,  to  grumble  for  independence, 
as  if  your  greatness  were  of  your  own  making,  or  as  if  I 
had  picked  you  out  of  the  whole  of  St.  James's  coffee- 
house to  hold  my  back  hand,  for  your  sake,  forsooth,  not 
for  my  own  ?  Wherefore,  lay  aside  all  your  own  proper 
business,  be  it  the  pursuit  of  dowagers,  or  the  plucking  of 
pigeons,  and  instantly  repair  to  this  place,  where   1   may 


300  WAVERLEV    NOVELS. 

speedily  want  your  assistance. — May  want  it,  said  I  ? 
Why,  most  negligent  of  friends  and  allies,  I  have  wanted 
it  already,  and  that  when  it  might  have  done  me  yeoman's 
service.  Know  that  I  have  had  an  affair  since  I  came 
hither — have  got  hurt  myself,  and  have  nearly  shot  my 
friend  ;  and  if  I  had,  I  might  have  been  hanged  for  it, 
for  want  of  Harry  Jekyl  to  bear  witness  in  my  favour. 
I  was  so  far  on  my  road  to  this  place,  when,  not  choosing, 
for  certain  reasons,  to  pass  through  the  old  village,  I 
struck  by  a  footpath  into  the  woods  which  separate  it 
from  the  new  Spaw,  leaving  my  carriage  and  people  to 
go  the  carriage-way.  I  had  not  walked  half  a  mile  when 
I  heard  the  footsteps  of  some  one  behind,  and,  looking 
round,  what  should  I  behold  but  the  face  in  the  world 
which  I  most  cordially  hate  and  abhor — I  mean  that 
which  stands  on  the  shoulders  of  my  right  trusty  and 
well-beloved  cousin  and  counsellor,  Saint  Francis.  He 
seemed  as  much  confounded  as  I  was  at  our  unexpected 
meeting ;  and  it  was  a  minute  ei-e  he  found  breath  to  de- 
mand what  I  did  in  Scotland,  contrary  to  my  promise,  as 
he  was  pleased  to  express  it.  I  retaliated,  and  charged 
him  with  being  here,  in  contradiction  to  his.  He  justi- 
fied, and  said  he  had  only  come  down  upon  the  express 
information  that  I  was  upon  my  road  to  St.  Ronan's. 
Now,  Harry,  how  the  devil  should  he  have  known  this, 
hadst  thou  been  quite  faithful  ?  for  I  am  sure,  to  no  ear 
but  thine  own  did  I  breathe  a  whisper  of  my  purpose. — 
Next,  with  the  insolent  assumption  of  superiority,  which 
he  founds  on  what  he  calls  the  rectitude  of  his  purpose, 
he  proposed  we  should  both  withdraw  from  a  neighbour- 
hood into  which  we  could  bring  nothing  but  wretchedness. 
— I  have  told  you  how  difficult  it  is  to  cope  with  the  calm 
and  resolute  manner  that  the  devil  gifts  him  with  on  such 


ST.    ROXAX'S    WELL.  301 

occasions ;  but  I  was  determined  he  should  not  cany  the 
day  this  time.  I  saw  no  chance  for  it,  however,  but  to 
put  myself  into  a  towering  passion,  which,  thank  Heaven, 
I  can  always  do  on  short  notice.  I  charged  him  with 
having  imposed  formerly  on  my  youth,  and  made  himself 
judge  of  my  rights;  and  I  accompanied  my  defiance  with 
the  strongest  terms  of  irony  and  contempt,  as  well  as  with 
demand  of  instant  satisfaction.  I  had  my  travelling  pis- 
tols with  me,  (et  pour  cause.)  and,  to  my  surprise,  my 
gentleman  was  equally  provided.  For  fair  play's  sake,  I 
made  him  take  one  of  my  pistols — right  Kuchenritters — 
a  brace  of  balls  in  each,  but  that  circumstance  I  forgot. 
I  would  fain  have  argued  the  matter  a  little  longer;  but 
I  thought  at  the  time,  and  think  still,  that  the  best  argu- 
ments which  he  and  I  can  exchange,  must  come  from  the 
point  of  the  sword,  or  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol. — We  fired 
nearly  together,  and  I  think  both  dropped — I  am  sure  I 
did,  but  recovered  in  a  minute,  with  a  damaged  arm  and 
a  scratch  on  the  temple — it  was  the  last  which  stunned 
me — so  much  for  double-loaded  pistols.  My  friend  was 
invisible,  and  I  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  walk  to  the  Spaw, 
bleeding  all  the  way  like  a  calf,  and  tell  a  raw-head-and- 
bloody-bone  story  about  a  footpad,  which,  but  for  my  earl- 
dom, and  my  gory  locks,  no  living  soul  would  have 
believed. 

"  Shortly  after,  when  I  had  been  installed  in  a  sick 
room,  I  had  the  mortification  to  learn,  that  my  own  im- 
patience had  brought  all  this  mischief  upon  me,  at  a  mo- 
ment when  I  had  every  chance  of  getting  rid  of  my 
friend  without  trouble,  had  I  but  let  him  go  on  his  own 
errand  ;  for  it  seems  he  had  an  appointment  that  morn- 
ing with  a  booby  Baronet,  who  is  said  to  be  a  bullet- 
slitter,  and  would  perhaps  have  rid  me  of  Saint  Francis 


302  WAVEELEY    NOVELS. 

without  any  trouble  or  risk  on  my  part.     Meantime,  his 
non-appearance  at  this   rendezvous   has   placed  Master 
Francis  Tyrrel,  as  he  chooses  to  call  himself,  in  the  worst 
odour  possible  with  the  gentry  at  the  Spring,  who  have 
denounced  him  as  a  coward  and  no  gentleman. — What 
to  think  of  the  business  myself,  I  know  not ;  and  I  much 
want  your  assistance  to  see  what   can  have  become  of 
this  fellow,  who,  like  a  spectre  of  ill  omen,  has  so  often 
thwarted  and  baffled  my  best  plans.     My  own  confine- 
ment renders  me  inactive,  though  my  wound  is  fast  heal- 
ing.     Dead  he  cannot  be ;    for  had  he  been  mortally 
wounded,  we  should  have  heard  of  him  somewhere  or 
other — he  could  not  have  vanished  from  the  earth  like  a 
bubble  of   the  elements.      Well   and   sound   he  cannot 
be;  for,  besides  that  I  am  sure  I  saw  him  stagger  and 
drop,  firing  his  pistol  as  he  fell,  I  know  him  well  enough 
to  swear,  that  had   he  not  been  severely  wounded,  he 
would  have  first  pestered  me  with  his  accursed  presence 
and  assistance,  and  then  walked  forward  with  his  usual 
composure  to  settle  matters  with  Sir  Bingo  Binks.     No 
— no — Saint  Francis  is  none  of  those  who  leave  such 
jobs  half  finished — it  is  but  doing  him  justice  to  say,  he 
has  the  devil's  courage  to  back  his  own  deliberate  imper- 
tinence.    But  then,  if  wounded  severely,  he  must  be  still 
in  this  neighbourhood,  and  probably  in  concealment — 
this  is  what  I  must  discover,  and  I  want  your  assistance 
in  my  inquiries  among  the  natives. — Haste  hither,  Harry, 
as  ever  you  look  for  good  at  my  hand. 

"  A  good  player,  Harry,  always  studies  to  make  the 
best  of  bad  cards — and  so  I  have  endeavoured  to  turn 
my  wound  to  some  account ;  and  it  has  given  me  the  op- 
portunity to  secure  Monsieur  le  Frere  in  my  interests. 
You  say  very  truly,  that  it  is  of  consequence  to  me  to 


st.  roxan's  well.  303 

know  the  character   of  this  new  actor  on  the  disordered 
scene  of  my  adventures. — Know,  then,  he  is  that  most 
incongruous  of  all   monsters — a   Scotch   Buck — how  far 
from  being  buck  of  the   season  you   may  easily  judge. 
Every  point  of  national  character  is  opposed  to  the  pre- 
tensions of  this  luckless  race,  when  they  attempt  to  take 
on  them  a  personage  which  is  assumed  with  so  much  fa- 
cility by  their  brethren  of  the  Isle  of  Saints.     They  are 
a  shrewd  people,  indeed,  but  so  destitute  of  ease,  grace, 
pliability   of  manners,  and  insinuation   of  address,  that 
they  eternally  seem  to  suffer  actual  misery  in  their  at- 
tempts to  look  gay  and  careless.     Then  their  pride  head> 
them  back  at  one   turn,  their  poverty  at  another,  their 
pedantry  at  a  third,  their  mauvaise  honte  at  a  fourth ; 
and  with  so  many  obstacles   to   make  them  bolt  off  the 
course,  it  is   positively  impossible  they   should  win  the 
plate.     No,  Harry,  it  is  the  grave   folk   in   old   England 
who  have  to  fear  a  Caledonian  invasion — they  will  make 
no  conquests  in  the  world  of  fashion.     Excellent  bankers 
the  Scots  may  be,  for  they  are  eternally  calculating  how 
to  add  interest  to  principal ;  good  soldiers,  for  they  are, 
if  not  such  heroes  as  they  would  be  thought,  as  brave,  I 
suppose,  as  their  neighbours,  and  much  more  amenable 
to    discipline ; — lawyers    they    are    born ;    indeed    every 
country  gentleman   is   bred  one,  and  their  patient  and 
crafty  disposition  enables  them,  in  other  lines,  to  submit 
to  hardships  which  other  natives  could  not  bear,  and  avail 
themselves   of  advantages  which   others  would    let   pass 
under  their  noses  unavailingly.     But  assuredly  Heaven 
did  not  form  the  Caledonian  for  the  gay  world ;  and  his 
efforts   at    case,   grace,    and    gaiety,   resemble    only    the 
clumsy  gambols  of  the  ass  in  the  fable.     Yet  the  Scot 
has  his  sphere  too,  (in  his  own  country  only,)  where  the 


304  WAVEKLEY    NOVELS. 

character  which  lie  assumes  is  allowed  to  pass  current. 
This  Mowbray,  now — this  brother-in-law  of  mine, — 
might  do  pretty  well  at  a  Northern  Meeting,  or  the  Leith 
races,  where  he  could  give  five  minutes  to  the  sport  of 
the  day,  and  the  next  half  hour  to  country  politics,  or  to 
farming  ;  but  it  is  scarce  necessary  to  tell  you,  Harry, 
that  this  half  fellowship  will  not  pass  on  the  better  side' 
of  the  Tweed. 

"  Yet,  for  all  I  have  told  you,  this  trout  was  not  easily 
tickled ;  nor  should  I  have   made  much  of  him,  had  he 
not,  in  the  plenitude  of  his  northern  conceit,  entertained 
that  notion  of  my  being  a  good  subject  of  plunder,  which 
you  had  contrived  (blessing  on  your  contriving  brain  !) 
to  insinuate  into  him  by  means  of  Wolverine.     He  com- 
menced this  hopeful  experiment,  and   as  you  must  have 
anticipated,  caught    a    Tartar    with    a  vengeance.      Of 
course,  I  used  my  victory  only  so   far  as   to   secure  his 
interest  in  accomplishing  my  principal  object ;   and  yet 
I  could  see  my  gentleman's  pride  was  so  much  injured  in 
the  course  of  the  negotiation,  that  not  all  the  advantages 
which  the  match  offered  to  his  damned  family,  were  able 
entirely  to  subdue   the   chagrin   arising  from  his  defeat. 
He   did   gulp   it  down,  though,  and  we   are  friends  and 
allies  for  the  present  at  least — not  so  cordially  so,  how- 
ever, as  to  induce  me  to  trust  him  with  the  whole  of  the 
strangely   complicated  tale.      The   circumstance    of   the 
will  it  was  necessary  to  communicate,  as  affording  a  suffi- 
ciently strong  reason  for  urging  my  suit ;  and  this  partial 
disclosure  enabled  me  for  the  present  to  dispense  with 
farther  confidence. 

"  You  will  observe,  that  I  stand  by  no  means  secure  ; 
and  beside  the  chance  of  my  cousin's  reappearance — a 
certain  event,  unless  he  is  worse  than  I  dare  hope  for — 


st.  ronan's  well.  305 

I  have  perhaps  to  expect  the  fantastic  repugnance  of 
Clara  herself,  or  some  sulky  freak  on  her  brother's  part. 
— In  a  word — and  let  it  be  such  a  one  as  conjurers  raise 
the  devil  with — Harry  Jekyl,  I  want  you. 

"  As  well  knowing  the  nature  of  my  friend,  I  can  as- 
sure you  that  his  own  interest,  as  well  as  mine,  may  be 
advanced  by  his  coming  hither  on  duty.  Here  is  a  block- 
head whom  I  already  mentioned,  Sir  Bingo  Binks,  with 
whom  something  may  be  done  worth  your  while,  though 
scarce  worth  mine.  The  Baronet  is  a  perfect  buzzard, 
and  when  I  came  here  he  was  under  Mowbray's  training. 
But  the  awkward  Scot  had  plucked  half-a-dozen  pen- 
feathers  from  his  wing  with  so  little  precaution,  that  the 
Baronet  has  become  frightened  and  shy,  and  is  now  in 
the  act  of  rebelling  against  Mowbray,  whom  he  both 
hates  and  fears — the  least  backing  from  a  knowing  hand 
like  you,  and  the  bird  becomes  your  own,  feathers  and 
all. — Moreover, 

-by  my  life, 


This  Bingo  hath  a  mighty  pretty  wife.' 

A  lovely  woman,  Harry — rather  plump,  and  above  the 
middle  size — quite  your  taste — A  Juno  in  beauty,  look- 
ing with  such  scorn  on  her  husband,  whom  she  despises 
and  hates,  and  seeming,  as  if  she  could  look  so  differently 
on  any  one  whom  she  might  like  better,  that,  on  my 
faith,  'twere  sin  not  to  give  her  occasion.  If  you  please 
to  venture  your  luck,  either  with  the  knight  or  the  lady, 
you  shall  have  fair  play,  and  no  interference — that  is, 
provided  you  appear  upon  this  summons  ;  for,  otherwise, 
I  may  be  so  placed,  that  the  affairs  of  the  knight  and 
the  lady  may  fall  under  my  own  immediate  cognizance. 
And  so,  Harry,  if  you  wish  to  profit  by  these  hints,  you 

VOL.  xxxiii.  20 


306  WAVERLEY   NOVELS. 

had  best  make  haste,  as  well  for  your  own  concerns,  as  to 
assist  me  in  mine. 

"  Yours,  Harry,  as  you  behave  yourself, 

"  Etherington." 

Having  finished  this  eloquent  and  instructive  epistle, 
the  young  Earl  demanded  the  attendance  of  his  own 
valet,  Solmes,  whom  he  charged  to  put  it  into  the  post- 
office  without  delay,  and  with  his  own  hand. 


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